Malkin Academy: The Fearful Secret
by Dr. Platypus
Summary: A long-forgotten evil threatens to rise again at America's oldest wizarding school. Malkin Academy needs a hero, and fate has provided the most unlikely hero of all. A tale of Quodpot, Dark magic, and Wizard Wheezes.
1. The Dog's Head

It was autumn at the Malkin Academy for the Magical Arts. The days were cooler and shorter. The leaves on the trees had erupted into a rainbow of yellows, oranges, reds, and browns before at last falling in mountainous heaps all over campus. Following the brief Thanksgiving break, most teachers gave up any hope for serious schoolwork until after Christmas—yet another reason to be thankful this time of year!

Will Proctor wrapped his cloak around him as he left his dormitory and trudged across the damp grass toward the Quodpot stadium. It was a cloudy, windy day. The slightest drizzle of cold rain stung the faces of expectant fans as they climbed into the bleachers, many carrying banners of Proudfeather black or Strongfoot yellow. As usual, even some of the villagers from nearby Malkinville attended the game, proudly sporting the colors of their former houses.

The Saturday before Christmas break was the date of the second Quodpot game of the season. Earlier in December, Quickfang house, the defending school champions, trounced Fairgarland eight to three. Everyone assumed today's match-up between Strongfoot and Proudfeather would reveal which of those two teams stood the best chance of dethroning Quickfang, which had won the Malkin Academy Quodpot trophy for four years running.

Near the center of the Proudfeather cheering section, Will took his seat beside fellow Proudfeather Kate Burroughs. On the other side of Kate was their mutual friend, Dana Good. Dana was in Fairgarland house, but usually rooted for Proudfeather whenever her own house wasn't playing.

"Think it will be a good game?" the blonde Fairgarland girl asked.

"I hope so," Will offered. "But I'm not getting my hopes up." Will enjoyed Quodpot as much as any thirteen-year-old wizard, but that didn't mean he had any desire to play the game. To tell the truth, he thought it was crazy to fly around on broomsticks fifty feet above the ground passing around a ball that could explode at any second!

Strongfoot had most of last year's team back. Proudfeather had lost four of last year's eleven players to graduation, but some of the new players showed potential, not least Will and Kate's friend Felicia Hyatt. Gus Burlington, the team captain, had promised to cap his seventh year with a Quodpot trophy for Proudfeather. While some were hopeful, most Proudfeathers accepted that this would be a rebuilding season. They did not, however, express this opinion where Gus could hear them.

"Don't be so negative," Kate scolded, her curly red hair blowing in the wind. "Felicia says we're going to be better than a lot of people think we will."

"That's what Phinehas says, too," Will said. Phinehas Buzzard was one of Will's roommates. "I'm not sure the only two third-years on the team can tell how good they'll be. Those Strongfoot Blockers were awfully good last year."

Kate began to say something when the Proudfeather team flew out of the locker rooms on their broomsticks and circled the stadium. They wore black robes trimmed in white, with white numbers on their sleeves and their names across their backs. Beneath their robes they wore shiny black dragon-skin armor: a tunic, fingerless gauntlets, and lightweight flexible helmets with white leather wings attached to the sides. Half the fans whooped and cheered.

Someone performed a charm that cast the shadow of a giant eagle on the field fifty feet below. In the Strongfoot section of the stands Steve Dortch, a notoriously rabid Quodpot fan, created a puff of yellow smoke that took the form of a charging buffalo and stormed through the stadium. Apparently he meant to charge it into the Proudfeather fans, but a sudden wind blew it off course. It hit a clutch of late-arriving Quickfangs instead, who all glared at the boy as they coughed and gagged from the smoke. Steve sheepishly shrugged an apology and sat back down.

The object of Quodpot was to get the Quod, a red leather ball about the size of a basketball, into a cauldron at the top of a fifty-foot-high pole. The players had to move fast, however, because the Quod could explode without warning, and whoever had possession of the Quod when it did explode was removed from the game.

There were eleven players on each team. The smallest and fastest were the three Harriers, whose job was to break up the opposing team's defense by flying at them quickly and erratically, hopefully creating openings their teammates could exploit. Today was Felicia's first game as a Harrier for Proudfeather, and her friends cheered more for her than anyone else.

In addition to the Harriers, there were four Forwards, like Phinehas. Forwards were the players most responsible for advancing the Quod to the opposing cauldron—and therefore they were often the first players removed from the game by exploding Quods.

Three Blockers, the largest and often the slowest players, were the defensive specialists. They spent most of the game circling their team's cauldron seeking to prevent their opponents from scoring. Will's older brother, Tom, was a Proudfeather Blocker.

Finally, there was the Center, who was responsible for tipping the Quod into play and generally directing the team's offense. Gus Burlington had been Proudfeather's Center since his fourth year and the team captain since his sixth.

The Proudfeather team landed near the center of the field just as the Strongfoots appeared from their locker rooms. They wore yellow robes trimmed in black and the same black dragon-skin armor as their opponents. Instead of wings, however, the Strongfoots had yellow horns attached to the sides of their helmets. All eleven of them flew in tight formation, led by their Harriers—two girls and a tiny fifth-year boy who was the smallest of the three. Now the other half of the stands erupted in thunderous applause.

"Those guys are huge!" Will gulped, his eyes glued to the three broad-shouldered Blockers taking up the rear as the Strongfoot team flew another lap around the field.

"They're not any bigger than they were last year," Dana said. "Come on, let's just enjoy the game." Will loosened his black and white scarf. The press of the fans kept the stands warm despite the wind and the drizzle.

"Welcome to the second Quodpot game of the season: Strongfoot versus Proudfeather!" boomed a magically enhanced voice. At a long table in the front row of the stands, an older Fairgarland student had begun to announce the game.

The two teams met at midfield and Gus shook hands with the opposing captain, Daniel Kilmeade, the tallest and most imposing of the three Strongfoot Blockers. The referees for this game were Mr. Reddit, the flying instructor and assistant librarian, and Ms. Ruiz, the Charms teacher. Mr. Reddit said a few words to the two captains, then with a nod of his head both teams took flight once again with Ms. Ruiz close behind. Mr. Reddit used a Summoning Charm to cause a Quod to fly into his hand from a rack of nearly two dozen at the edge of the field. He tapped the Quod with his wand and heaved it high into the air.

"And the first Quod has been activated!" the announcer shouted as Mr. Reddit mounted his own broom to join the players in the air. "Proudfeather wins the toss as Burlington tips the Quod to Buzzard. Buzzard advances on the Strongfoot cauldron behind Hyatt and Dunwoody, passing off to Burlington. Burlington passes to Van Meter—ooh! Harrier Sheridan took a hard block from Kilmeade, trying to open up a lane for Van Meter. Now Van Meter passes to Buzzard—and the Quod is stripped away by Livingston. Strongfoot is now in possession. Livingston makes a long pass to Robles, Robles to González. The Strongfoot Harriers are honing in on Gill, no, now they're veering toward Proctor. The Proudfeather Blockers are drifting out of position…and it's a score by Neandro Robles. Strongfoot goes ahead one to nothing."

The Proudfeather fans groaned. Ms. Ruiz performed a Hover Charm to remove the Quod from the Proudfeather cauldron. It was dripping with the translucent yellow potion that would keep it from exploding until its charms could be reapplied.

Gesturing fiercely, Gus Burlington zipped over to where Tom Proctor and Reggie Gill hovered. Will and his friends couldn't make out what he was saying, but they were sure he wasn't complimenting them on their sportsmanship.

Mr. Reddit landed, summoned a fresh Quod from the rack, tapped it with his wand, and heaved it up into play.

This time Strongfoot won the toss, but the Proudfeather Blockers were ready for them. They defended their cauldron until Phinehas Buzzard intercepted a pass and zoomed down the field. Will, Kate, and Dana jumped to their feet, screaming and cheering. The three Harriers zigged and zagged while Phinehas and fellow Forward Liza Dunwoody passed the Quod back and forth, advancing on the Strongfoot cauldron.

Liza Dunwoody slipped through the opening the Harriers provided her and was almost to the cauldron when suddenly there was a flash of brilliant light and a noise like fireworks going off. Soot and tattered scraps of red leather rained down upon the field. The Quod had exploded.

Momentarily stunned, Liza descended to the field where Nurse Cotton gave her a quick examination. The young wizard nodded reassuringly and motioned for her to leave the field. Meanwhile, Mr. Reddit prepared to throw another Quod into play.

"Proudfeather Forward Liza Dunwoody is removed from play," the announcer said. "Let's give her a hand."

Everyone clapped in appreciation, but not for long: the game was still going on. Now, however, the Proudfeathers had a further disadvantage since they only had ten players on the field against Strongfoot's eleven.

"We need a quick goal," Will said. "Even things up."

But it was not to be. Strongfoot racked up two more goals before Proudfeather even got close to scoring. When Sarah Van Meter took a shot from twenty feet out, one of the Strongfoot Blockers knocked it away on its downward arc. The Proudfeather fans roared.

"That's cauldron-tending!" Kate bellowed. But Ms. Ruiz had already blown her whistle to award Proudfeather the goal because of Strongfoot interference. A second later the Quod, which by this time had been in play for nearly five minutes, exploded in the hands of a Strongfoot Forward.

In Quodpot, you don't just have to keep track of the score. You also have to pay attention to how many players each team has left. Over the next half hour, Strongfoot scored two more goals, but lost five more players to exploding Quods while Proudfeather only lost three. This meant that, after forty-five minutes of play, Strongfoot was ahead on goals five to two but Proudfeather still had seven players against Strongfoot's five. Knowledgeable fans knew that this phase of the game revealed a team's true talent, as players had to cover for each other and even play the positions of teammates who had been eliminated.

Unfortunately for Proudfeather, the Strongfoot team was just as good as everyone remembered from last year, and Gus Burlington's promise to bring home the Quodpot trophy seemed like an idle dream.

Phinehas Buzzard scored his second goal of the game, but was eliminated on his next possession. His broomstick jerked and wobbled as he made his way to the ground, and Nurse Cotton sent him off to the infirmary with another student to help him stay balanced on his feet. Proudfeather had now lost three of its four Forwards, so Felicia Hyatt had to play Forward along with Ji Park, a fifth-year girl who flew rather well, but was not a great passer.

After another twenty minutes, it was clear that Proudfeather was on the ropes. The score was six to three, and both teams were down to their last four players. Gus Burlington, who had caught an exploding Quod in the stomach shortly after Phinehas was eliminated, shouted instructions from below—but no one seemed able to hear him. Above, Tom Proctor tried to rally his dwindling team. Now taking over as Center on offense and still playing Blocker on defense, he zipped through the sky, his face a picture of grim determination.

"Nothing against Gus," Dana commented in the stands below, "but I think you guys play better with Tom in charge."

"I bet he's team captain next year," said an older Proudfeather boy named Tony Segola. "He's a natural leader."

"Yeah," Will said. Everyone said that about Tom, and sometimes it got under Will's skin to hear it. Truth be told, he envied his older brother's self-assurance.

"Oh!" Kate gasped.

Felicia had made an exceptional cross-field pass to Tom, who muscled his way through Strongfoot's remaining Blockers to score. Once again, the Proudfeather fans jumped to their feet, but it turned out that was the last goal their team managed to score. Strongfoot scored one more goal and forced the elimination of three more Proudfeathers by isolating them and preventing them from getting off a pass to their teammates.

The last Proudfeather in the air was Blocker Reggie Gill. Three points down and outmanned, the fourth-year tossed the Quod high in the air: the universal symbol of concession. High in the air, the final Quod exploded sending tufts of burnt leather into the stands. The announcer said, "And that's the game. The final score is Strongfoot seven, Proudfeather four. Thanks for coming everybody! The next game will be Fairgarland versus Proudfeather on the twenty-first of January."

Will, Kate, and Dana fell in line with the other disheartened Proudfeathers exiting the stadium. The rain, which had never been more than a light drizzle throughout the game, was becoming a gentle shower. Students donned hats or pulled up the hoods of their cloaks as they filed out of the bleachers and across the lawn toward their dormitories.

"Will, where's your scarf?" Kate asked.

Will felt around his neck. "It must have slipped off," he said. "You two go on or you'll get soaked. I'll catch up with you."

Climbing back up through the press of students leaving the stadium was a lot like swimming upstream, but eventually Will made it back to where he was sitting. He scanned the area and at last spied his scarf blowing in the wind underneath the bleachers. It must have fallen through and gotten snagged on the metal supports. Will pulled his hood more tightly around his face as he reached down and stretched his long, slender arm toward the scarf.

As he grabbed it he gasped. Someone was on the ground under the bleachers, doubled over.

"Hey!" he shouted. The person below didn't seem to hear him, but Will spied someone else moving below. He (at least Will thought it was a "he") was ten feet or more away from whoever was hurt and was putting away a wand. At Will's shout, the person looked up. Will whispered a curse when he saw the person's face. Though in every other way the apparent attacker looked perfectly normal, he had the snarling face of a dog!

Will jumped back and nearly landed flat on his back on the cold wooden bleachers. He sprung to his feet. He was one of the last people in the stands now. Underneath the bleachers the dog-headed stranger had disappeared. Will bolted over the benches as quickly as he dared. At the bottom of the bleachers, where everyone else turned left to go to the dorms, Will turned right. Ahead of him was the person he had seen from above, now pale-faced and grimacing in terrible pain.

"Somebody find Nurse Cotton!" he called. When no one seemed to hear, he pulled out his wand and fired a wave of red and blue sparks into the air. A couple of Strongfoots ceased celebrating to turn in Will's direction. One of them immediately took off at a run, calling for help. The other sprinted toward Will. It was a third-year girl Will recognized as Becky Loew.

"What's the matter?" she called.

"He looks hurt," Will said. Indeed, the boy continued to cringe as Will helped steady him on his feet. His light brown hair was heavy with sweat.

"S-stomachache," the boy muttered, half delirious with pain.

"Is that Steve Dortch?" Becky asked. Only then did Will recognize the boy who had produced the yellow smoke-buffalo before the start of the game.

"I don't see any injuries," Will said. "He must be sick."

"He was fine at lunch."

"He's not fine now."

At last Nurse Cotton rounded the corner, wand in hand, along with the Strongfoot boy who had gone to fetch him.

"Nurse Cotton!" Will cried. "It's Steve Dortch. He doesn't look good. He says his stomach hurts."

The healer hurried to Will's side. He ran his wand over Steve's body from head to foot. It glowed green as it passed Steve's stomach.

"G-gotta…gotta…." Steve bent over and heaved, but didn't spit anything up.

"Let's get you to the Infirmary," Nurse Cotton said. He performed a Calming Charm, then levitated Steve's body and directed it forward with a flick of his wand.

Will and Becky followed behind.

Once they had escorted Steve to the infirmary, there didn't seem to be any point in hanging around. Becky ran off to let her fellow Strongfoots know what happened.

The rain had stopped, and the clouds were beginning to clear. Will headed back to the Proudfeather dorm. In front of the library, he bumped into someone.

"Watch where you're going!" the other student griped.

"Sorry," Will said, "I wasn't paying att—"

He suddenly realized he had run into Kevin Guinfort, one of the Quickfang boys who had given Steve such an evil look before the game.

The other boy beamed a look of pure hatred toward Will as he marched up the steps to the library.

_What__'__s__ his__ problem? _Will thought.

* * *

><p>Author's note: This story begins shortly after the events in "Malkin Academy: The Cup of Kings." Although this story stands on its own, there are a few inconsequential references to that previous story. Like "Cup of Kings," this story is a gift for my daughter, who suggested several plot elements along the way. Obviously, anything you recognize belongs to J. K. Rowling. The original characters, spells, and settings are my own.<p> 


	2. Christmas

Steve Dortch spent the next three days in the infirmary, only appearing again Wednesday morning as most students were packing to leave for Christmas vacation. By then, everyone had heard the story of how he suddenly got sick as he left the Quodpot stadium.

Will was not at all sure it was a simple case of food poisoning or a stomach bug, though he only shared what he saw with his friend Kate.

"Are you sure that's what you saw?" Kate asked at breakfast in the Dining Hall. The room was decorated to look like an old frontier hunting lodge, only many times larger. Will pondered the dozen or so mounted trophies on the walls, which all seemed to listen in on their conversation.

"Yes," he paused. "At least, I'm pretty sure." Everything had happened so fast. He had only seen the strange dog-headed attacker for a split second.

"As sure as you were that your family was nearly attacked by werewolves this past summer?" Kate asked.

"That was different," Will protested, his face turning red. "There really is a werewolf colony in Louisiana," he sputtered. "It was dark, and…."

"And you were afraid and you let your imagination run wild," Kate finished. Will winced at her condescending tone.

"Look," he said, grim-faced, "I know I'm not the daredevil you are, Kate, but you make it sound like I'm some kind of…"

"Will, we've been friends since we were firsties. You're the smartest kid I know, but you've got to admit you do tend to be a little…jumpy…sometimes."

"You think I imagined the whole thing?"

"I just think if there really was some kind of monster at the Quodpot game more people would have seen it. That's all."

Will pondered what Kate said. "Maybe you're right," he conceded. "But it could have been some kind of mask. Those Quickfangs—"

"Will Proctor," Kate scolded, "do you honestly think they would throw that kind of curse on Steve just because he accidentally gave them a face full of smoke?"

"Do you have a better idea?" Will asked. "They might not have meant to hurt him that badly. And you saw how they looked at him. That one guy, the fourth-year—Kevin Guinfort? I ran into him Saturday after the game. If you ask me, he seems a little shady."

"So, what do you want to do?" Kate said. "Turn him in to Mr. Malleus? Along with the others—Ann Wulverston and her boyfriend, whatshisname, Greg Something? For a hex you just admitted might have been intended as a prank?"

"Greg Mallary. I guess not," Will sighed. Hexing each other, or threatening to do so, was a part of life for many of his classmates. It was a rite of passage to be able to stand up for yourself, to give as good as you got—and never let a teacher find out. Will thought the whole thing was stupid and tried to steer clear of such nonsense. He also realized that if Mr. Malleus investigated every hex ever cast at Malkin Academy, he wouldn't have time to teach his classes.

"I guess if Mr. Malleus thought it was worth the trouble, he'd have talked to them already."

"Exactly," Kate said. "Mr. Malleus is an ex-Auror. When it comes to Dark magic, he knows what he's doing."

Will had to admit this was true. His Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher wasn't likely to let anyone off the hook.

"I guess you're right," Will frowned. "I'd better get moving. I have a library book to return before Tom and I go home. I guess I'll see you in January. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Will."

Will got up from the table. After ducking into his dorm room long enough to retrieve _Perspectives__ on __Potion-making_, he was on his way across campus to the library. He glanced at his watch. He and his brother, Tom, were flooing home to Atlanta in an hour.

Like every other building on campus, the Dewey Jarvis Library looked like it belonged on an old colonial plantation. Will skipped up the front steps onto the colonnaded porch, through the main doors, and up to the book-return counter. As he set down the book, he heard the flipping of pages behind him. He turned around and saw Kevin Guinfort, the Quickfang boy he had run into Saturday, sitting at a study table and peering at an old, dusty book.

Will didn't know much about the surly fourth-year who insisted that everyone call him by his last name. He seemed to spend nearly as much time in the library as Will did, often sitting by himself with books and parchments spread out over an entire study table. It was almost like he was staking out his territory and letting the whole world know he didn't want any company.

One thing Will did know was that Guinfort had gotten in trouble for dueling last year. He was quick with his wand and not above answering an insult with a well-placed hex.

_Why __would __he __be __studying __today?_ Will wondered. _It__'__s __the __start __of __Christmas __vacation_. He turned back around before the older boy noticed he was being watched. As casually as he could, he edged past the book-return counter to the desks that housed the library's card catalog. He glanced around the library. As near as he could tell, the only people in the library were himself, Guinfort, and Ms. Lector, the short, round librarian.

Will pretended to look something up in the card catalogue. Guinfort jotted something on the roll of parchment spread out on the table in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Will's presence and shot him an unsavory look. In that instant, a drip of ink fell from his quill to the page. Guinfort hastily tried to blot up his mess. Then he stuffed his parchment, quill, and ink into his book bag, scooped up his book, and stalked away.

Will spied the book's cover. It was dark green and very old. He noted its size and its frayed condition. As soon as the other boy turned the corner, Will followed. He heard the Quickfang boy and caught a glimpse of his shoes, but decided to keep a row between them. Through the openings between the shelves, Will took note of where the other boy put the book he had been reading. Students were supposed to return their books to carts located throughout the library, from which Ms. Lector or one of the other librarians would magic them back to their proper locations. Did he not want anyone to know what he had been reading?

Guinfort walked back the way he came. Will pulled a book down from the shelf at random, hoping he looked deep in thought. As soon as the coast was clear, Will slipped into the row where the other boy had placed his book. He scanned the shelves for an old, dark-green book of about the right height and thickness. It didn't take long to find it. He pulled it from the shelf. The cover read, _Special__ Topics __in __Transfiguration_.

Will thumbed through the book. It was far more advanced than his own third-year Transfiguration textbook. For that matter, he wasn't even sure his fifth-year brother would be able to follow it—though, admittedly, everyone agreed Will was the more studious of the Proctor boys.

He closed the book and studied the outside edges of the pages. His eyes widened when he found an almost imperceptible stain where Guinfort had spilled ink on the page he was reading. There was an indistinct smudge trailing toward the back of the book, but a clearly defined line that revealed the page the Quickfang boy had been reading. Will opened the book again. He found himself in the middle of a chapter on Human Transfiguration and Animagi.

_There__'__s __no __way __Ms. __Goates __teaches _this _in __the __fourth __year!_ he marveled.

Will stood there, lost in thought for several minutes. Then with a start he realized he would be late if he didn't get moving. Whatever Kevin Guinfort was up to, Will decided to let it go. Kate was probably right; he was letting his imagination get the best of him. Kids threw hexes at each other before he came to Malkin Academy and they'd still be doing it after he graduated. He jogged back to his dorm to collect his things. It had turned much colder in the short time he was in the library; winter was definitely upon them. He welcomed the warmth of the Proudfeather common room with its gentle fire. Tony Segola and some of the other fifth-years sat around joking and playing games—either waiting for their own transportation home or making plans for spending Christmas on campus.

"Will!" Tony called. "Is Tom around?"

"I'm meeting him in Malkinville. Why?"

"I've got two extra tickets for the Bombers–Rapiers game on the thirtieth. Think he'd be interested?"

"Probably. Send him an owl."

"I'll do that. Thanks."

When Will arrived at the Powler Inn, Tom was already there, nervously pacing. This large tavern was the social center of Malkinville, the wizarding village just across Powler Creek from the Malkin Academy campus. Tom was already waiting for him, suitcase in hand.

"Where've you been?" Tom scolded. "I've been waiting here half an hour!"

This surprised Will, as he was sure he had plenty of time to spare. He glanced at his watch and discovered his brother was telling the truth. "Sorry I'm late," he said. "I guess I got held up in the library."

"Will Proctor in the library?" Tom teased, "I'm shocked! Shocked, I tell you!"

"Don't start with me, Tom," Will said with a sigh.

The older Proctor boy approached the large stone hearth in the center of the lobby. He reached in his pocket for a silver Darick and flipped it into an earthenware cup on the mantle marked "Floo."

"Do you want to go first?" Tom asked.

"It doesn't matter," Will said. Beside the cup was a stoneware crock, about the size of a large sugar dish. Will lifted the lid and grabbed a pinch of silver, glittery powder. He threw it onto the flames, which immediately turned emerald green. He stepped into the flames—now rendered harmless by the floo powder—and said, "303 Radcliffe Way!"

Will felt himself spinning wildly as he was whisked through the Floo Network. Dozens of inns, shops, and living rooms flashed before him, but none quite long enough for him to process what he was seeing. In less than a minute, he came to a stop in a familiar fireplace. He coughed, tried to shake as much soot off as possible, and stepped out of the fireplace and into a warm, comfortable living room. Will's mom and dad rose to greet him.

"Will!" his mom called. Mrs. Proctor was almost as tall as her husband, but slim and black-haired like Will. Tom took after his tall and broad-shouldered father. The boys also had a five-year-old sister, Evie, who jumped up and down at her brother's return. A few seconds later, Tom appeared. The Proctor boys gave their mom hugs and kisses.

Tom and Will lived in Wyvern Hills, a smallish town on the outskirts of Atlanta that was also home to several affluent wizarding families. In general, the Wyvern Hills wizards were rather progressive. They lived an almost Muggleish life, at least to outward appearances. Several of them owned cars, and old Mr. Brannon, a Muggle-born wizard, even owned a television and a computer.

Tom and Will spent Wednesday afternoon putting away their things and then listening to music on the wizard radio. Over dinner, they filled their parents in on how school was going and listened to the obligatory lecture about sending more frequent owls. It was good to be home, even if it was only for a couple of weeks.

The Proctors lived in a spacious two-story house at the very end of the street. In fact, their back yard opened to a patch of woods where Tom and Will had often played since they were youngsters.

On Thursday morning Will decided to take a walk in those woods. The sun had not yet risen. It was just cold enough that he could see his breath. He felt his nose and ears growing cold, but not to the point that he wanted to turn back. He was still upset about what Kate had said. He was sure she didn't mean to imply he was a coward, but that was how he took it.

"Jumpy," he said in disgust. "Like she's never—"

He stopped. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember a single time that Kate ever shrank from a challenge. She could hex as well as any boy, and she was always hatching some sort of half-baked plan and somehow convincing him and Dana and Felicia to go along with it. It wasn't that long ago that one of her plans nearly got them all killed as they tried to face down the vicious monster that haunted the woods in back of the Malkin campus.

Will hung his head and leaned back against a tree. _A __lot __of __good __I __did __on __Warlocks __Ridge_, he thought. _I __was __so __scared __I __couldn__'__t __even __aim __a __simple __Stunning __Spell_.

The sun had just cleared the horizon, filling the sky with soft streaks of purple and gold. He heard the sound of rustling leaves. Something was moving ahead of him, deeper in the woods. Will pulled out his wand and started to turn back. He heard a sound something like a horse neighing, but not exactly. After a moment's reflection he decided that, if anything, the noise sounded like a horse trying to imitate a rooster crowing.

Will dropped his wand arm to his side and allowed himself to smile. He took another half dozen steps forward and saw it.

From the front, the creature looked like a horse, but it had the tail, hind legs, and wings of an enormous bird. It was covered in pale grayish-brown hair in front and similarly colored feathers behind. Will gasped.

He had never seen one in person, although he recognized it immediately. The hippalectryon took note of Will's presence but didn't seem inclined to flee. Will stood in awe of the strange creature.

He had read about hippalectryons since he was eleven years old. He and his dad were at Lipinsky's, buying his wand.

"Beechwood, nineteen inches," Mr. Lipinsky had told him, "and the core is hippalectryon feather."

Above his head, the stern portrait of Lipinsky's founder tut-tutted at the thought of such an unusual wand core.

"What's a h-hippalectryon?" he asked, pronouncing the strange word almost perfectly on the first try.

"It's sometimes called a cock-horse," the wand-maker explained. "Part rooster, part horse. It's a very rare creature. To be honest, I've never worked with hippalectryon feathers before, but this one came together very nicely."

Will looked appreciatively at his pale-colored wand.

"Hippalectryon cores tend to be good for defensive and protective magic. I see great things in your future for a wand like this to choose you, young man. You might just be a powerful Light wizard some day."

"You hear that, Tom?" Mr. Proctor said to his elder son. "We may have an Auror in the family in a few more years."

"If we can ever get his nose out of his books," Tom teased.

The hippalectryon neighed (or perhaps crowed) again, bringing Will back to the present. It munched on a mouthful of grass, clawing at the ground with the talons on its hind legs. Then it perked up its ears. A train whistle had sounded in the distance. Another second and the creature had taken flight.

Will looked down at the wand in his right hand. He realized his heart was beating rapidly, like he had just gotten off a roller coaster.

All of a sudden he groaned and hung his head. He had thought of something he had never figured out before.

_Great_, he thought, _even__my__wand__core__is__half-chicken!_

* * *

><p>On Saturday the Proctor family attended the Christmas Eve service at Christ Church of Wyvern Hills. They came home for a light supper and spent several hours around the dinner table listening once again to Tom's version of his Quodpot team's heartbreaking loss.<p>

Early Christmas morning, Will and Tom got up to investigate their presents. Little Evie had already discovered her charmed stuffed unicorn prancing beneath the tree. Tom got the usual packages of socks and underwear as well as a new dress robe and a broom-servicing kit from his parents. He seemed to appreciate the mokeskin pouch that Will got him. Several of his teammates and other school friends had sent him small, inexpensive presents as well.

Will also got socks, underwear, and a dress robe. (He had grown three inches since last Christmas and desperately needed one.) His second major gift was a book with a soft leather cover emblazoned with an ornate capital P. As Will thumbed through the pages he discovered that all of them were blank.

"It's a notebook for school," his father explained. "Once you've written in it, you can shuffle the pages around by tapping them with your wand. And it can add more pages, too, without getting any larger. There's an instruction page at the back."

"Excellent!" Will beamed. "Thanks."

Tom's gift to Will came in a tiny silver box wrapped with red ribbon. "I didn't know what to get you," his brother confessed. "Maybe you'll like it."

Will opened the package. Inside was a small golden bauble that looked something like a locket or a small pocket watch, although it wasn't attached to a chain. It had a glass cover on the front that revealed some sort of clockwork mechanism inside. The whole thing was polished to the point that it glowed with a warm golden light. Numerous tiny gemstones encircled the face like pinpricks of starlight, and there were half a dozen tiny knobs on the sides.

"Oooh!" Evie cried. "Shiny!"

Will opened the cover. If anything, the artifact glowed even more brightly, though it didn't seem to put out any heat.

"Thanks, Tom," Will said, puzzled. "What is it?"

"It's a Shiny Thing," Tom said. "I saw it at Nestor's Novelties in Malkinville. It was the last one they had."

"What does it do?"

"It's shiny!"

"Can I see?" Evie asked excitedly. Will gave her the Shiny Thing and she bounced away, contented.

"Also, it has a charm on it so you'll never lose it. Once you've kept it in your pocket for a day or two, it figures out you're its owner. Then you can call it to you if you ever lose it."

"That's a relief," Will quipped. Other than keeping a preschooler occupied, he couldn't see the point of owning a Shiny Thing. Still, he had to confess it was sort of interesting to look at, and he figured those knobs might make it do something interesting. As soon as Evie was put to bed that night he reclaimed his present and dropped it in his pocket.

The rest of the week passed at a leisurely pace. Tom and Will helped out around the house, played countless games of Hex-Your-Neighbor and Exploding Snap, and stuffed themselves on holiday sweets.

By Thursday, however, the prospect of free time at home had dissolved into boredom. Will decided to put his new notebook to good use and started on some of the schoolwork he had brought home.

He dug _The __Standard __Book __of __Spells __(Grade __3)_ out of his suitcase. Charms was one of Will's worst subjects. Will rarely had to worry about his written work. He was a meticulous note-taker, and more than one of his teachers praised his ability to write clearly and concisely. Still, he struggled when it came to practical magic.

He was most at home with principles and theories. He had memorized Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration and all of its exceptions during his first month at Malkin Academy—but he lagged behind many of his classmates when it came to actually transfiguring anything. He knew all twelve documented uses for dragon's blood, but had never quite got the hang of brewing a decent potion.

Will's Charms textbook was an American edition of a British text that had been around for ages, revised and expanded by Donovan Sparks. Mr. Sparks, who taught Charms at Malkin when his parents went there, was one of the leading ethnomagicologists of his day. His life's work had been to study the rich diversity of American wizarding traditions, and his textbook reflected this interest. When Will and his fellow third-years returned to school in January, they would begin a chapter called "An Introduction to American Folk Charms."

It looked like most of the Folk Charms covered in this chapter were variations on spells he and his classmates had already learned. In fact, he knew his mom and dad used two or three of them quite often—helpful little spells they had no doubt learned from their parents and grandparents.

He couldn't help thinking, however, about Folk _Curses_. Was there some kind of obscure spell that would strike someone with severe stomach cramps? For that matter, was there a spell that could disguise one's head to look like the head of an animal? There must be, he thought. In fact, he seemed to remember hearing about one, but he couldn't put his finger on where.

_When __I __get __back __to __school_, he thought, _I__'__m __going __to __take __another __look __at_ Special Topics in Transfiguration.


	3. In Theory

After Christmas day itself, Will and Tom most looked forward to the Friday after. As Will had learned before going home, Tony Segola, one of Tom's roommates, had managed to get tickets to a professional Quodpot game. The Chesapeake Bombers were hosting the Georgia Rapiers in the first game of their annual Holiday Invitational Tournament. An owl arrived the previous Thursday inviting Tom and Will to come.

Friday afternoon, decked out in silver and black sweatshirts that proudly displayed the Rapiers logo, they flooed to Virginia.

Tony, a dark-haired boy with an infectious smile, met them at the coffee shop where the Floo Network deposited them and even flipped a Darick into the tip jar to cover their trip. It wasn't technically necessary to tip the owner of a floo terminus. It was, however, good manners—and a wise courtesy for frequent travelers to observe. Tony was with his best friend, Rick Lombard. Rick was a fifth-year Quickfang whom Tom already knew from the classes the two houses had together. He introduced Will.

"How's it going?" Rick said, smiling, as he gave Will a firm handshake.

"We'd better get moving," Tony said. The four boys stepped out into the blustery street. He turned quickly to the right, and the other boys followed close behind.

"How are we going to get there?" Tom said. "Will doesn't have a broom, and I left mine at school."

"You forget," Tony said with a smile, "my parents are Muggles."

"So?"

"So, I don't suppose you know what happens to Muggle kids when they turn sixteen—as I did last week?"

Tony stopped and turned to face them. He gestured toward an older two-door coupe parked at the curb.

"They get their driver's license!" he exulted.

The four of them piled into Tony's car (a combination birthday and Christmas present from his parents) and off they went. A half-hour later, they were winding along country roads somewhere between Chesapeake and Suffolk, Virginia. One more turn, and they saw a couple dozen other cars in a makeshift parking lot on the grass ahead. A wizard with a glowing orange wand guided them into a parking space and directed them toward a dirt path. The outdoor stadium, larger than the one at school, was only a few hundred yards away through the trees.

The weather was cold and snowy. Giant snowflakes whipped around the stadium but melted as soon as they hit the ground. Will, Tom, and their friends climbed up several flights of stairs, at last emerging in the section indicated on their tickets.

Will gulped when he realized everyone in the seats around him wore blue and scarlet. They were in the heart of the Bombers cheering section! Thinking about his black and silver sweatshirt with the crossed-swords design across the chest, he decided to keep his coat buttoned all the way up to his neck.

There were more witches and wizards there than Will had ever seen in one place before. In addition, there were stout, bearded dwarfs, including some of the strange, baboon-faced red dwarfs from Detroit. There were also a handful of goblins present, and—Will noted with apprehension—a couple of hags seated near the top of the bleachers. There were even a few Nunnehi, tall and pointy-eared like a cross between elves and Native American warriors, seemingly impervious to the cold in their feathers and buckskins.

The Chesapeake Holiday Invitational must have drawn spectators from everywhere east of the Mississippi. Will spied another dozen Malkin Academy students, although none that were more than passing acquaintances. He also saw teenagers he didn't recognize, no doubt students at one of the other American wizarding schools. A band of severe-looking older teens in the jet black cloaks and pointed hats of the Salem School of Witchery had taken their seats not too far from a much more laid back contingent gathered around a girl idly dancing in the stands—even though Will couldn't hear any music. She wore an iridescent white long coat and a knit cap sporting antlers and a golden crown: the Mooseking Institute of Magic was apparently out in force as well.

It was still a few minutes until the game was scheduled to start. The four boys talked about their school Quodpot teams and, eventually, about school in general.

"So, Tom," Tony said. "What did you get on that last Defense test?"

"What? Oh, I somehow managed a D," Tom grinned. Grades at Malkin Academy ran from F for "Fantastic" (which hardly anybody ever earned) all the way down to A for "Atrocious." The lowest passing grade was a C ("Competent").

"'Distinguished,' eh? Well, more power to ya."

"Why? What did you get?"

"Malleus gave me an E for 'Excellent'—but it's nothing to brag about if you ask me," Tony said. "The whole thing is a joke as far as I'm concerned."

"You got that right," Rick jumped in.

"What do you mean?" Tom said. "Malleus works us harder than most teachers."

"Sure, he works us," Rick continued. "I bet we know a dozen ways to avoid danger or protect ourselves when we can't run away. That's fine in theory, I guess, but we aren't going to be students forever. Not everybody plays by Malleus's rules, you know."

"Are you telling me you want Mr. Malleus to be even tougher on us?" Tom asked.

"I just wish he would give us _all_ the options. He won't even let us have a dueling club! And Stunners and Shield Charms won't always cut it in the real world, you know."

Tom grew silent as the announcer called for the crowd's attention. "Ladies and Gentlebeings," he called, "Welcome to the first game of this year's Chesapeake Holiday Invitational. Tonight's match-up features the Georgia Rapiers…" (the crowd clapped and shouted) "…and the Chesapeake Bombers!" The crowd, including nearly everyone around Will and Tom, thundered their appreciation for the home team.

"Now join me in welcoming the Georgia Rapiers." Eleven wizards and witches in black and silver robes rocketed into the sky over midfield, followed a few minutes later by the Chesapeake Bombers in their blue and scarlet.

As the first Quod rocketed upward and the game got underway, Will wondered whether Rick and Tony had a point about Mr. Malleus. He knew—even if they didn't—that someone had thrown a nasty curse at Steve Dortch after the Proudfeather–Strongfoot game. What if Steve had known how to fight back? Would he have been able to drive off his attacker and maybe avoid spending four nights in the Infirmary?

Will was soon distracted from these thoughts by the thrill of the game, however. The Bombers flew like lightning toward the Georgia cauldron, their three Harriers in a wedge formation with all four Forwards close behind, passing the Quod between them with dizzying speed. Two of the three Rapier Blockers veered away to avoid a collision, and the Bombers scored an easy goal. Everyone around them jumped to their feet and screamed at the top of their lungs. Tom and Will sat quietly.

"That's Hattabaugh with the score," the announcer shouted. "Now the Rapiers have possession. Smith makes a long pass to Forsyth, coming up on the left flank behind Cooper and Solart. The Forward and both Harriers make a steep climb, shuffling positions, and Smith arcs toward the cauldron from behind for an easy lay-in. Georgia ties the score at one apiece."

"Yeah!" Tom shouted, pumping his fist in the air. Perturbed Bombers fans stared at Tom from all around. Will chose to remain in his seat.

The game stayed close for over an hour. By that time, the score was four to three in Georgia's favor, but Chesapeake's passing kept them from losing players to exploding Quods as quickly as Georgia did. They still had six players in the game to Georgia's five.

A referee blew her whistle. Cooper, a Georgia Harrier, had been called for blagging, or grabbing the tail of an opponent's broom. She scowled at the referee and flew to the penalty box, where she would have to wait until the next Quod exploded.

The game was now tied four to four, with the Bombers still ahead on players six to five. Georgia called for a time-out.

"Mr. Malleus teaches Patronuses," Will said.

"What?" Tony asked.

"What you were talking about earlier," he continued. "We're supposed to learn about Patronuses after break. So it isn't all just 'Stunners and Shield Charms.'"

"It's still just reacting to a threat that's already there," Tony said dismissively. "And anyway, it takes years to master the Patronus Charm. It seems to me a wizard should be proactive. Take the initiative, make an enemy adjust to _your_ game."

"Even if you're right," Tom said, "what are you going to do about it? The faculty decides on the curriculum, not the students."

"If there were enough of us they'd have to listen," Rick offered. "You could help, Tom. Other kids look up to you."

Tom scoffed.

Out on the field, both teams had once again risen into the air. The Rapiers won the tip-off and blazed toward the Bombers cauldron. The next twenty minutes of play were the most exciting yet. The two teams flew like mad in the most intricate patterns Will had ever seen. They matched each other goal for goal. With the score tied six to six and the teams even with four players each, the Bombers flew in a wide formation, passing the Quod back and forth between their two largest remaining players.

A Bomber Forward, now playing at the Harrier position, dove into the Rapier defenders from above and nearly knocked one of them off his broom. The crowd gasped, and the Rapier fans howled with rage.

"Ram-rodding!" Tom shouted. It was illegal to ram into an opponent with one's broom handle, but that was what the Chesapeake player had done. Unfortunately, neither referee saw the foul.

The maneuver opened a lane for another Chesapeake player to take an easy shot at the Georgia cauldron.

"And the Bombers go ahead, seven to six," the announcer called.

Chesapeake won the tip-off and zigzagged toward the Georgia cauldron again. After a couple of quick passes, Forsyth, the Georgia Forward, managed to steal the Quod and pass off to his teammate, Delfino. A Chesapeake Blocker shouldered into him thirty feet from the cauldron. The Quod sprang loose from Delfino's hand, and the two nearest players—one Rapier, one Bomber—bolted downward to recover it.

Just then, the Quod exploded. Amid the smoke and the smell of burning leather, both players wobbled toward the ground. The referees met on the ground at midfield to sort out who had possession of the Quod when it went off. All the players on both teams huddled around them, attempting to persuade the referees to rule in their team's favor.

Three or four minutes passed. The argument on the field was heated, and didn't seem to resolve anything. Then one of the referees signaled to someone on the sidelines before mounting his broom and flying up to speak with the announcer.

"The referees have called for a review of the play," the announcer said. Back on the field, two attendants were rushing onto the field. One carried a small wooden stand. The other gingerly carried a stone basin filled with a liquid cloudlike substance.

"I hate Pensieve review," Tom moaned. "That's a rule change the league should never have approved."

The other referee now touched his wand to the temple of a Georgia player and extracted a silvery wisp of light. He drew the substance down into the cloudy liquid of the Pensieve. Both referees bowed into it to experience that player's remembrance of the play in question. Several other players of both teams were lining up, preparing to have their memories reviewed.

"This could take a while," Will said. "Anybody want a butterbeer?"

"I'll take one," Tom said, pulling a Darick from his pocket.

"None for me," Rick said, "but I'm going to go find a bathroom."

As the two climbed down the steps to the ground level, Will considered asking the Quickfang boy what he knew about Kevin Guinfort. Everything Rick and Tony said about being proactive, not waiting for someone else to make the first move, got Will thinking again about what happened to Steve Dortch.

As Rick wandered off in search of the restrooms Will got in line at the concession stand. Nearly everybody else, it seemed, figured the break in the action would be a good time to grab a cup of warm butterbeer, a bottle of Fizzbang Soda, or some other treat.

Ahead of Will in line was the girl in the iridescent coat and antlered cap he saw dancing before the game. She was still swaying distractedly as if she heard music no one else could. She was about Will's age, with reddish-brown hair. Now that he saw her up close, he decided she was rather pretty. She was visiting with her friend, a short Asian girl also about thirteen or fourteen years old.

"I can't believe all you got for Christmas was books," the Asian girl said.

"I also got a couple of cute new outfits," the cap girl said, "but you've got to admit, the _Spell-Caster__'__s__ Desk __Reference_ is a pretty awesome present."

Will had to agree. He had discovered the six-volume _Spell-Caster__'__s__ Desk __Reference_ last year in the Malkin Academy library and could barely pull his eyes away from it.

Now he realized he could barely pull his eyes away from this smiling Northern girl. Beneath her long coat she wore blue jeans and a hot pink sweater with a smiling snowman sewn to the front. Around her neck hung a necklace of multicolored beads with a ceramic medallion, apparently homemade, engraved with a picture of some sort of wrinkled, warty creature. As soon as Will realized he was staring at her chest, he lifted his eyes—then turned away blushing as, for a split second, the two made eye contact.

"I swear, Andi," the Asian girl scoffed, "sometimes I think you're going to turn into a book!"

_Andi__ is __a __pretty __name_, Will thought. He stole another glance.

The girl named Andi laughed. "What can I say? I love to read…"

_I__ love __to __read, __too_, Will thought. _No, __that __sounds __lame. __How __about: __Me, __too. __Who__'__s __your __favorite __author?_

"…and anyway, Kim, you never seem to mind my books when you need help with Charms homework."

_ You girls go to Mooseking, right? What's the Charms class like there? Do they teach Folk Charms?_

"Aw, you know I'm just teasing," Kim said. "Hey! It's finally our turn." Kim and Andi ordered a warm butterbeer apiece and a box of chocolate spiders to share.

Will watched the two girls start back toward their seats, wishing he had found the nerve to talk to them. Finally, the man at the concession stand prodded him back to reality with his wand. He placed his order and scooted two Daricks across the counter.

Butterbeers in hand, Will headed back to his seat. Just then, there was a roar from the stands above him. Apparently the referees had completed their review and announced their decision. Will couldn't decide if there were more boos or cheers, however, as he was suddenly too busy trying to avoid all the other fans now rushing up the steps to find out what had happened.

Before Will knew what was happening, he was caught in a small stampede of sports fanatics. He dodged and weaved like a Quodpot player against a tornado of angry Blockers. He ended up cradling both his and Tom's butterbeer in one arm and balancing with the other, and the next thing he knew he was diving into the boy's bathroom to avoid being trampled.

Rick opened the restroom door just as Will would have crashed into it. He and another boy were leaving.

"Will!" Rick cried. "You'd better be careful!"

"Sorry."

"I take it the referees finally made a call?" Without waiting for Will's answer, Rick jogged up the steps to his seat.

Will followed close behind. As he scooted into his seat, Tom explained that the referees finally decided in Georgia's favor. The words were no sooner out of his mouth than a Quod exploded and a Chesapeake player wobbled down to the field trailing a tail of black, wispy smoke.

Georgia now had both momentum and the advantage of numbers. Delfino scored the tying goal, and then another to gain the lead. Meanwhile, Chesapeake continued to lose players to exploding Quods.

At last, the final Chesapeake player was caught holding the Quod as it exploded in an eruption of sparks and ash. The announcer said, "Phelps is eliminated, and that's the game. The final score is Georgia eight, Chesapeake seven. Be sure and come back tomorrow to watch the Detroit Blaze face the Amherst Gargoyles. The winner of that game will play Georgia for the Holiday Trophy next Saturday. Goodnight, everybody!"

The four boys fell into line behind all the other fans making their way out of the stadium.


	4. Wizard Wheezes

Tom and Will arrived back home in Wyvern Hills well past midnight and slept until nearly noon. It was New Year's Eve, and their parents were having a small get-together later. This meant Tom and Will were busy all day putting the house in order. Tom and his dad put away Christmas decorations. Will accompanied his mom and Evie on a grocery run.

That night the Proctors rung in the New Year with some of their closest friends: the Cahills from down the street and the Gills. Mr. Gill worked with Will's dad at the Atlanta office of the U. S. Portkey Authority. Reggie Gill was on the Proudfeather Quodpot team with Tom, and the two of them spent the night talking about last night's Rapiers–Bombers game. Shortly after supper they sneaked up to Tom's room to listen to the Blaze–Gargoyles match-up on the wizard radio. Shortly before midnight, they descended to announce that the Rapiers would be playing the Detroit Blaze next week, which meant they had a decent chance of winning the entire tournament.

At midnight everyone drank champagne (or Fizzbang Soda for the children) and went out to the back yard, where Mr. Proctor and Mr. Gill used their wands to shoot blazing multicolored fireworks into the air.

Once again, Will got to bed far later than he was accustomed. Once again, he slept until almost noon. After a quick shower he stumbled downstairs. He gave his mother a good-morning kiss and she informed him that Tom had left to spend the day in Atlanta with his friend Reggie.

Will spent the afternoon helping his parents clean up from last night's party. When Mr. Proctor had to check in at the office and Mrs. Proctor left to run a couple of errands, Will was left babysitting his little sister. After the fourth or fifth tea party, he pulled his Shiny Thing from his pocket and turned it over to her. To Will's amazement and delight, something about it utterly fascinated her. The Shiny Thing kept Evie occupied until his parents came home, and gave him a couple hours to go over a list of potion ingredients Madame Glapion, his Potions teacher, had given them to study before Christmas.

When his dad came home from the office, Evie shot into his arms. Will smiled. _Even__ a __Shiny __Thing __can__'__t __compete __with __Daddy_, he thought. Then he extended his arm, palm up, and concentrated on Tom's Christmas present. "I need my Shiny Thing," he said, and the glowing trinket silently materialized in his hand.

The rest of the week was a blur. On Sunday afternoon Tom and Will packed their bags and flooed back to the Powler Inn, then walked across the old covered bridge toward the wrought iron gate of Malkin Academy.

Will was the last of the third-year Proudfeather boys to return to campus. Phinehas Buzzard and his best friend, Rodney Walker, had spent the afternoon flying their brooms around campus. Phinehas was a tall, broad-shouldered African American boy who looked a year or two older than he really was. Rodney was tall and gangly like Will, but broader shouldered and with classic Native American features. His sleek black hair fell almost to his shoulders. They came in from flying about the time Will arrived and now were washing up before supper

Will's other two roommates, Marc Lantier and Adam Sizemore, were sitting at a corner table in the Proudfeather common room. An inviting fire warmed the entire area. Along the dark wood-paneled walls, a bald eagle soared from painting to painting. It seemed Marc and Adam were engaged in their usual pastime of getting into mischief. The two boys huddled around a table and dug through a magenta box somewhat larger than a shoebox.

"Wicked!" Marc said as he pulled the lid off a small tin of yellow candies. "Canary Creams," he read from the label. "Temporarily transfigures the eater into a canary. I've _got_ to slip one of these to Neandro Robles from the Strongfoot Quodpot team! What've you got there, Adam?"

Adam was taller than Marc and fairer-skinned. In his hand he held something that looked like a lumpy ball of moss and ivy while gazing at a leaf of parchment.

"It's something called a Portable Swamp."

"What's going on?" Will asked.

"You gotta see what Adam's older brother got him for Christmas. It is _awesome_!"

"Yeah," Adam said, swelling with pride. "He sent it straight to school—so Mom and Dad wouldn't see it, no doubt. An owl only brought it today."

"Adam's brother works for a big potions company over in England. I guess these are really big over there."

Will picked up the magenta box lid, in the center of which a large golden W was printed in a whimsical script. Underneath the W was more writing.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," Will read. "Junior Jackanape Sample Kit."

"Whoever this Weasley guy is," Marc said, "he makes Nestor's Novelties look like a bunch of amateurs." He held up the catalog that had come with the box. "Listen to this! They've got Wildfire Whiz-bangs, Skiving Snackboxes—looks like you've got one of those—Trick Wands… Adam, do you think your brother could place us an order if we sent him the money?"

Adam insisted that he and Marc use great restraint with his Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. After all, they only had a small sample kit to play with. He wanted it to last as long as possible. For their first victim, they set their sights on Daniel Wardwell, a lean, redheaded first-year who struck them as having an easy-going nature and not likely to get them in trouble. After supper that night, as they passed the time in the Proudfeather common room, they offered him a piece of toffee. As soon as he popped it in his mouth, his tongue began to turn purple and swell to gigantic size. It topped out at a bit over four feet long (Adam insisted on measuring it) and stayed that size for most of the evening.

After the Ton-Tongue Toffee incident, however, Proudfeathers were entirely too suspicious to try any sweets Adam and Marc offered them. The boys were grateful, however, that no one seemed quite as concerned about members of other houses.

Classes resumed promptly at eight o'clock the following morning. Proudfeather's first class was Care of Magical Creatures. Marc made a point of getting to class early and placing a Canary Cream and a card that read "From a secret admirer" on the desk of Victor Neumann, a Quickfang boy who always seemed far too serious for his own good. Of course, Marc feigned ignorance of who might have left the candy there.

Just as Ms. Hoskins's began her lecture on the mating habits of jarveys, Victor popped the sweet into his mouth and suddenly gagged. A second later his face turned yellow, and he began to shrink on the spot. He had, indeed, been transfigured into a tiny yellow canary. He peeped and flitted about the room while the rest of the class laughed and clapped. Ms. Hoskins's pet kneazle, Scratch, licked his lips and followed Victor with his eyes as the transfigured boy flapped around the ceiling.

It didn't take long, however, until the teacher grew tired of the interruption. Shooing Scratch to the floor, she pulled her wand from its leather sheath on the belt of her blue jeans and coaxed Victor to land on her desk, where she performed the appropriate untransfiguration spell. Victor assumed his proper size and shape and found himself standing on his teacher's desk with no clue what had just happened. Ms. Hoskins told him to return to his seat and cast an exasperated look around the class.

In the absence of any evidence, she had no choice but to let the matter drop.

Adam and Marc didn't dare play any more pranks that day, least of all in their final class, Transfiguration. Their Transfiguration teacher, Ms. Goates, was a stern and demanding witch who had no tolerance for any kind of frivolity in her classroom. Furthermore, as the Vice Principal of Malkin Academy, she had special responsibilities for addressing any rule-breaking or disruptive behavior. With her tall, thin frame, spiky gray hair, and severe demeanor, Ms. Goates inspired reverence—if not abject fear—in most Malkin students.

As if it were any other day and not the first day back from Christmas vacation, Ms. Goates lectured nonstop for the first half of class, filling four separate white boards with magical equations and principals related to inanimate-to-animate transformations. She then brought several stone animal statues out of her supply room and had students practice transforming them into actual living creatures.

At the command, "Wands out," there was a commotion at the back of the room. "Mr. Trimble? Mr. Neumann?" Ms. Goates said, "Is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

The two Quickfang boys looked up at their teacher. Malik Trimble said, "Ms. Goates, I-I can't find my wand!"

Ms. Goates frowned.

"It was in my backpack this morning!" he cried. "I know I had it at lunch."

"How very careless of you," Ms. Goates said, disgusted. "Have you not yet learned that a wizard's wand is his or her most basic tool? Ten points from Quickfang." Malik started to protest but Ms. Goates's blazing stare silenced him before he uttered a word. No one questioned the word of Vice Principal Goates. No one.

"There doesn't seem to be any point of you remaining in class," she rumbled as she gave Malik an icy glare. "You are dismissed, Mr. Trimble. And please remember to bring your wand with you to class on Thursday."

* * *

><p>After class, Will went to the library with most of his classmates to study. It felt good to be back at school; but away from the comforts and distractions of home, his mind once again turned to the strange creature he saw—or maybe only thought he saw—the weekend before Christmas. Instead of working on the homework his teachers had assigned, Will wandered into the stacks to find the copy of <em>Special<em>_ Topics __in __Transfiguration_ he had seen Kevin Guinfort reading before Christmas. Now that he had plenty of time to read it, he was disappointed to find it was not terribly enlightening. There was nothing in it about dog-head spells of any kind. Nor could Will find anything in the Defense Against the Dark Arts section about werecreatures who only transformed from the neck up.

The mystery kept Will awake that night long past the time he would normally have been fast asleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, convinced he had once read something about a dog-headed man but unable to remember where.

Will lit his wand long enough to check the time. The alarm clock on his bedside table said it was 1:10 in the morning. His roommates were fast asleep. Will rolled out of bed, slipped on his robe and slippers, and sneaked down the hall to the common room. The fire in the fireplace had waned to a weak, reddish glow. Will wandered over to the small bookcase where the Proudfeathers kept copies of the most basic reference works on hand. He opened the glass cabinet and pulled the _Dictionary __of __American __Wizardry_ from the shelf. Sitting in an overstuffed chair by the fireplace, he read random entries by wandlight for the better part of an hour.

Will awoke with a start. He must have been sleepier than he thought. He stretched, returned his book to the shelf, and stumbled back to bed. He noticed that his breathing was labored, however, as if he had been exercising rather than sleeping. His muscles were stiff and sore.

_Too __much __stress_, he told himself.

The next day, Will stumbled through his morning classes still half-asleep from his restless night. By lunchtime, he had mostly recovered, although he still felt sore if he made any sudden movements.

That afternoon, as expected, Ms. Ruiz introduced the topic of Folk Charms. The Charms teacher was generally well liked, but she spoke very quickly, and some students found it hard to keep up with her. Fortunately, she never complained about repeating herself or rephrasing what she said when someone had trouble following her Spanish accent.

She demonstrated some of the spells she learned growing up in Arizona with incantations either in archaic Spanish or one of several Native American languages. Most of them seemed to work pretty much the same as the standard charms the class had already learned, although several of the boys said they wished they had known about her Frightening Jinx at Halloween.

She also permitted students to share some of the Folk Charms they had learned. Rodney Walker lit a candle using an Algonquian Fire Charm he said his grandfather had always used. Victor Neumann whispered a Hebrew charm that created an invisible barrier between himself and his roommate, DeAndre King. Everyone laughed as DeAndre pounded against the unseen wall, completely unable to get to Victor, no matter which way either of them turned. Victor explained that his mother had often used this charm to keep his fights with his older cousins from getting out of hand.

Malik Trimble had still not found his wand even though he swore he had looked everywhere. Ms. Ruiz gently warned him that if he didn't find it soon he would have to contact his parents about buying him a new one.

The rest of the week proved largely uneventful. Adam only attempted one more prank with his Wizard Wheezes. On Thursday in Herbology, he let off his Portable Swamp in the greenhouse where Mr. Corntassel was explaining how to re-pot a Mimbulus Mimbletonia. It took the old Native American wizard several minutes of strenuous Charms work to whisk away the muck and the stench of rotting vegetation with his eagle-tasseled wand. He docked Proudfeather five house points after coaxing a confession from the guilty party.

* * *

><p>On Saturday afternoon, the weather was unseasonably warm. This pleasant surprise drew many students out of their dorms and onto the vast lawn behind Osserly Hall. Some rode brooms. A handful of younger kids had somehow gotten their hands on a deactivated Quod and practiced passing maneuvers out over Malkin's expansive rolling fields. A few Muggle-born students had conjured a ten-foot tall pole with a metal hoop at the top and took turns trying to throw an orange leather ball through it.<p>

As usual, Adam and Marc had no problem amusing themselves. Will was walking with them near the broom shed when Marc produced a plastic disk from beneath his cloak. It was bright green in color, and along the edges was a row of gleaming white fangs. It snarled as Marc showed it to his roommates.

Adam, Marc, and Will tossed around the Fanged Frisbee for a good long while. They tried to invent a good game to play with it, but had a hard time settling on rules that were agreeable to everyone. They threw it for distance. They threw it for accuracy, trying to aim for one and then another makeshift goal. They tried to keep it airborne as long as possible with simple Hover and Levitation Charms. This seemed to Will the smartest game to play, since it tended to keep the players' hands and fingers safe from the nips and cuts the disk tried to inflict upon them.

Eventually other kids drifted over and joined the game: Kate and Felicia, who had gotten bored with broom-flying, suggested they form teams and mark off a proper playing field. Kenny Garlwood, a fourth-year Strongfoot, helped them transfigure a couple of benches into elevated goal hoops similar to those the Muggle-born kids had made.

The game was a hit. Will, Kate, and Adam squared off against Marc, Felicia, and Kenny, with each team trying to get the Fanged Frisbee into the others' goal basket. They decided that they weren't allowed to touch the disk with any part of their bodies—they had to either use magic or tap it with their wands—and that they were only allowed to move when they weren't controlling the disk.

This went on for some time, but eventually Adam and Marc started trying to make the game more "interesting" by injecting their own brand of unpredictability into it. As Kate took a shot at the hoop, Marc jinxed her with a swarm of gnats. Kenny blew a shot from Will off course with a sudden magical burst of air, which led to Adam throwing a Jelly Legs Jinx on Kenny the next time he had the disk.

The game ultimately sputtered out when Kate and Felicia decided they had had enough and wandered off the field. That was when Adam offered Kenny a Chocolate Frog as an apology for jinxing him.

As soon as the Strongfoot boy popped it in his mouth, however, he knew something was not quite right. His eyes began to bulge, and his skin began to turn the slightest bit green. When he opened his mouth to speak, the only sound that came out was a deep, rumbling croak.

Kenny glared murderously at Adam. He pulled out his wand and pointed it straight at him and shouted his incantation, but what everyone heard was, "Croak!"

Adam and Marc burst out laughing. "I've been wanting to try the Chocolate Croaker on somebody," Adam grinned. "Looks like it works!"

"Ribbet!" Kenny said, still trying to throw a jinx. When he realized spells wouldn't work, he lunged for Adam. In a flash, the two boys were barreling across the lawn, Adam still smiling but Kenny's eyes ablaze. The older boy finally caught up to him on the far end of the lawn, near the carriage house. He yanked on the collar of Adam's jacket and pulled him to a halt. The next second, the two boys were rolling on the ground. Marc and Will followed close behind, but before they could pull Adam and Kenny apart, there was a flash of light. The boys fell flat on their backs. Above them, in the doorway of the carriage house, stood the groundskeeper, Mr. Slackbrow.

"Tarnation!" the wiry, snaggle-toothed man thundered. "You boys wanna explain what's goin' on?" Will guessed from his oil-smudged hands he had been working on one of Malkin's school buses when he heard the commotion. The wind whipped his long, greasy hair.

"Br-r-rack!" shouted Kenny. "Brack-ack-ack! Kwa-ack! Kaw-a-a-ack!"

Mr. Slackbrow set his hands on his hips and glared down at Adam. "Just what did you do to this boy?" he demanded.

Adam and Marc shouted over each other to insist it was just a practical joke and the effects would wear off if Kenny would just be patient. Mr. Slackbrow didn't want to hear it. He removed the Encumbrance Charm he had used to pin the two boys down and hauled Adam up by his collar. The spidery-looking man was stronger than he looked! Kenny rolled over and struggled to his feet.

"I've a mind to let Ms. Goates sort this out. Is that what you want?" Adam's face turned pale at the mention of the intimidating Vice Principal.

"Ribbet!" croaked Kenny.

"Aw, come on!" Mr. Slackbrow said in resignation. "She'll need to fix you up anyways. Let's go!" The groundskeeper herded Adam in the direction of the faculty cabins, complaining the whole way about this unwelcome intrusion into his day. Kenny followed close behind.

Marc thought about following as well to speak up for his friend, but decided it was safer just to take his Fanged Frisbee and go back to the dorm.

Will noticed a glimmer of silvery light from inside the carriage house. Curious, he peeked inside. Two old yellow school buses were parked side-by-side, one of them with the hood raised and a greasy rag draped across the front. To the left was a cluttered workbench; to the right, a small open space for Mr. Slackbrow's gardening equipment: rakes and hoes, bags of fertilizer, and so forth.

In the center of this area a ghost hovered.

Will had never seen this ghost before, but he had heard older kids talking about Archie. This ghost apparently haunted an old dueling ground on Warlocks Ridge, just on the other side of Powler Creek, but he sometimes visited the campus and, for reasons he never shared with the living, liked to hang around the old carriage house. Archie looked like he had died in his early twenties. He might have been handsome in his day, but the left side of his face was now badly burned—as was the corresponding shoulder of his ghostly frockcoat.

"Sorry," Will gasped. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

The ghost looked Will over but didn't betray any emotion. He stood (or rather, floated) with perfect posture and an air of refined dignity.

"It's not right," the ghost finally said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's not right to go running to a teacher to solve all your problems. In my day, those two boys would have settled things properly, on the field of honor."

People said Archie was rather intense and a little bit crazy. Most were glad he never showed up at any of Malkin Academy's banquets or parties.

"Yeah," Will said. "Well…I'd better get going."

"You do that," the ghost said.

Will pulled his cloak more tightly around him and trudged off across the lawn.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: My daughter wanted Weasley's Wizard Wheezes to figure in this story. What do you think?<p> 


	5. Smitten

On Tuesday night, the Proudfeather boys claimed a corner of their common room to go over their Charms homework together.

"Okay, I'm officially lost!" Marc leaned back in his overstuffed chair. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, "Tell me again why we have to learn six different ways of conjuring fire?"

"Because Ms. Ruiz says it's going to be on the test," Rodney Walker said.

"This Folk Charm stuff might not be all bad," Phinehas said, thumbing through his textbook. "You think there might be some New Orleans Voodoo love charms in here, Marc?"

"First of all," Will spoke up before Marc had a chance to answer, "Voodoo is a religion, not a magical technique. _The __Standard__ Book __of __Spells_ isn't going to teach Voodoo any more than it's going to teach Christianity or Judaism. And second…"

"Look out everybody," Phinehas winked, "Will's making a list."

"_Second_," Will said again, "the fact that _some__of__us_ haven't figured that out yet is exactly why we start learning about Folk Charms in third year."

"Yeah, I get that we're supposed to learn about other wizarding traditions," Phinehas conceded. "'America is a great cultural melting-pot' and all that. But seriously, how much of this is going to be on the B.A.T.S.?"

Every year students endured the Basic Achievement Tests in Sorcery. The B.A.T.S. were the Department of Magical Education's way of ensuring that all American wizarding schools performed up to specifications. Will wondered how long it would be until the Secretary of Magical Education realized that real learning pretty much ground to a halt for two months every spring while teachers did nothing but prep their students to pass a standardized test.

Will flipped through his notes. "For the written exam, Ms. Ruiz said we just have to understand the theory behind the different traditions. For the practical exam we have to know all the basic spells we've been learning, obviously, plus at least one of the variant forms of each—and we get to pick. And it's not like there's half a dozen forms of every spell, you know. Some only have one or two, and most don't have any. And a lot of the spells we already know are technically Folk Charms anyway, since the incantation is in English, not Latin. Anyway, Phinehas, I bet your folks have taught you plenty of neat 'tricks.'"

"Tricks?"

"You know, 'jobs'? 'Cunjers?"

Phinehas scoffed. "Do you know how ridiculous it sounds when white kids try to use black slang like that? 'Cunjers'? Seriously? That word was lame when my dad was thirteen!"

Will blushed. "Sorry, man, I just—"

"No need to apologize," Phinehas grinned. "I know you didn't mean anything by it." Then in a mock accent straight from the inner city he added, "But do it one more time an' I might hafta cross yo' sad self. KnowwhatImsayin?"

Adam, Marc, and Phinehas all nearly doubled over with laughter.

"I think I'm going with the Cherokee forms when they have one," Will continued, trying to regain his composure. "They seem pretty straightforward." He crumpled up a half-leaf of parchment and dropped it on a metal plate in front of him. He tapped the paper with his wand and uttered, "_Atsilá_." The parchment browned where Will's wand touched it and a thin wisp of smoke floated upward.

The other boys chuckled. Adam, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, approached the table. "Step aside, Will," he said. "Let a real wizard show you how it's done." The sandy-haired boy waved his wand and tapped the parchment. "_Kinnieflam_," he commanded. The crumpled parchment burst into flame with a gentle "poof."

"It's all in the wrist," he smirked. "Plus, that's how my grandpa always did it."

"You know," Phinehas winked at Adam, "I was thinking about the Cherokee form, but now I'm leaning toward whatever Adam just did."

Will turned red yet again as his roommates chuckled. "Well, you get the point," he said impatiently. "You find the incantation that works best for you."

"And I sincerely hope you find it before the B.A.T.S.," Rodney chortled.

The door leading to the girls' dorms opened. Kate Burroughs and her roommate Felicia Hyatt walked into the common room. From their conversation, Kate was on her way to let her cousin Merlina cut her hair, and Felicia was advising her on what her new "look" ought to be.

"Yo, Kate!" Phinehas called. "I was just wondering. What charm did your grandfather use to conjure fire?"

"_Kinnieflam_, why?"

The boys burst into laughter again. Kate eyed them curiously, glanced at Felicia, and the two girls rolled their eyes. An unspoken complaint of "Boys!" unmistakably passed between them. They shook their heads and walked away.

"Will," Adam said, "when are you gonna put a good word in for me with Kate?"

"You're in class with her every day," Will said. "Talk to her yourself. Unless you'd rather give her some candy that turns her into a ferret or something."

"I know, but—for reasons I will _never_ understand—she likes hanging out with you. Couldn't you, you know, help me break the ice?"

"He just wants to keep 'em for himself," Phinehas said. "Kate, Felicia, and even Dana Good from Fairgarland. Now, there's a fine-looking lady. And you _know_ what they say about Fairgarland girls."

"That all of them are out of your league?" Will quipped.

"That none of them are ever going to go out with you?" Marc added.

"Not even the firsties?" Adam joked.

Phinehas scowled.

"We tell you the truth because we love you," Adam said. "And personally, if Kate turns me down I wouldn't mind taking Dana on a magic carpet ride, either…"

"Just wait till Saturday," Phinehas said. "After she sees my moves against Fairgarland, she'll be asking Will to put in a good word for _her_ with _me_!"

"I'm not sure Dana would fall for a guy just because he's a slightly better than average Quodpot player," Will observed.

"Oh, please, Will. I'm a _spectacular_ Quodpot player!"

"I'll be sure to point that out to Dana on Saturday," Will said, "while I'm sitting in the stands between her and Kate."

* * *

><p>Saturday was charged with excitement in anticipation of the afternoon's game between Proudfeather and Fairgarland. Both teams had racked up losses in their first outings, and opinion was divided among the other two houses as to which team they would rather see win. Most agreed Proudfeather had the better team. The question, however, was what a Proudfeather blowout would do to the house standings. They had only lost to Strongfoot by three points. If they dealt a major embarrassment to Fairgarland they might creep into second place. Then, if Quickfang then made short work of Strongfoot, Strongfoot could slip into third. The self-styled experts debated the possibilities all morning long.<p>

At lunch, both the Fairgarland and Proudfeather teams were greeted by enthusiastic applause from all four tables. It didn't take much for Fairgarlands to drum up enthusiasm—they had a well-earned reputation as the most fun-loving of Malkin Academy's four houses. But the often-moody Proudfeathers were not to be outdone. As the Proudfeather team left the table to prepare for the game, an older boy conjured black and silver streamers that rocketed from the tip of his wand over the Fairgarland table. In reply, someone—Will didn't see who—created brilliant scarlet fireworks that sent Will and several other Proudfeathers and Quickfangs diving for cover under their tables.

Students began drifting out of the Dining Hall toward the Quodpot stadium. Will finished his last bite of tuna salad and washed it down with a sip of pumpkin juice.

"I'd better go," Kate said from across the table. "I made a banner for Felicia and I need to find a good place to hang it."

Will looked at her and smiled. "Do you need any help?" he asked. He drained his cup of pumpkin juice. Will caught a whiff of the most wonderful scent he had ever experienced. It was a combination of cranberry salad, dogwoods in bloom, and the slightest hint of paper, paste, and whatever else it was that made new books smell so good.

"Sure, come on."

"I like your perfume," he muttered.

"What? Oh, thanks," Kate said. "Whatever."

Will felt his cheeks warming and his heart fluttering at the thought of walking with Kate back to their dormitory. He had never really noticed it before, but Kate had gotten a lot prettier since they first met two and a half years ago.

_And __she __likes __hanging __out __with __me_, Will thought. _Adam__ said __so. __How __could __I __have __been __so __blind?_

Everything about her seemed perfect. Will couldn't believe he had never noticed those beautiful, deep, blue eyes before, or the way her curly red hair framed her delicate face. Her new haircut made her seem older and more sophisticated. She wore just enough makeup, and—and now Will's heart really began to race—there was something about the way she laughed….

_I __should __say __something_, he pondered. _Let __her __know __how __I __feel._

At the door to the Proudfeather dorm, the brass eagle doorknocker demanded the password.

"Stormy Weather," Kate said.

The common room was empty. No doubt everyone else was already on their way over to the Quodpot stadium. Kate skipped ahead to find her banner, leaving Will alone. A proud bald eagle perched on a rocky precipice in the painting closest to the doorway to the girls' dorm rooms. It watched Kate pass, then turned its attention to Will as he waited quietly.

Will wondered what he should say, how he could tell Kate what she meant to him. He thought about those Mooseking girls from Christmas. He was too shy to say anything then, but that one girl (what was her name again?) was nothing more than a passing fancy. She meant nothing to him and she never would. But this was different. This time, it mattered.

_Don__'__t __mess __this __up! _he told himself. He breathed into his hand to check his breath. Then he practiced smiling—not a goofy grin, not a leer like some kind of creep. This had to look natural, spontaneous. He didn't want to come on too strong and scare her away, but he didn't want to wimp out, either.

_Try__ to __look __sincere!_

Kate came back with a long canvas banner with the words "Go Felicia!" painted on it. "Are you ready?" she asked with a smile.

_She__ smiled __at __me! _Will's heart skipped a beat. His entire body surged with electricity at the thought that he and Kate were sharing something special, something no other two kids had ever shared before.

"Kate," he said. He felt a lump in his throat. For some reason, his voice was shaking.

"Kate, I …"

"What is it, Will? You'd better tell me on the way. We're going to be late."

Will sighed deeply, but he didn't move from where he was standing. Kate looked at him with an expression of curiosity and concern. Those big, blue eyes of hers were hypnotic.

"Kate, I've never really told you…" He reached out his hand to hers. He hadn't realized how sweaty his palms had gotten.

"Do you think…? Would you…like to…?"

Suddenly Kate's expression turned from concern to horror. "Will, what has gotten into you?"

"I just want you to know how I feel, Kate," Will sighed. "All this time we've been friends, and I never had the courage to tell you. Until now."

"Will, you're making me very nervous!" Kate said. She tried to pull her hand away but Will held it tight.

And then, Kate's mouth dropped open as Will began to sing.

_Round about the cauldron go  
>Let your potion overflow<em>

Kate's cheeks turned bright pink and her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Will, you need to slow down for a minute and—"

_Cast your spell and I'm undone  
>Hold me till the setting sun<br>Hold me or I'll fall apart_

"I mean it, Will!"

_You've bewitched my pining heart_

All the while, Kate backed around the room, trying to escape Will's grasp. Will followed her step for step. He let his hand slip from hers and gently caressed her arm as his voice swelled at the chorus.

_Love'll—love'll boil and bubble  
>Fire, burn my heart like stubble!<em>

Kate yanked away and in a flash had her wand pointed at Will's face.

"William Cadmus Proctor!" she thundered. "_That_ is _enough_ of _that_!"

"Please, Kate," Will pleaded. "I can't go on without you. I'm in l—"

"_Wapstang!__"_ Kate bellowed. A huge red welt appeared on Will's nose like an angry, infected bee sting. Will backed away, temporarily blinded. "I'm just trying to say…"

"_Petrificus__ totalus_!" Will felt his arms and legs grow suddenly rigid. The next thing he knew, he was falling backward, as stiff as a board. He heard Kate stomp out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

It was impossible for Will to keep track of time as he lay woodenly on the floor. The only thing he could do was stare at the ceiling and let his nose throb with pain. His eyes welled up with tears that were not entirely the result of Kate's Stinging Hex. He had ruined his chance to confess his love to Kate.

Even as the back of his head throbbed where it had struck the hardwood floor, he couldn't get Kate out of his mind. He would have to try again. Buy her flowers, candy—anything! He realized he had tried to go too fast. Next time he would have a better plan. Maybe he should get some advice from Tom.

An hour passed, or maybe two. His nose no longer burned, but the swelling seemed to be getting worse. In his mind he replayed every detail of his encounter with Kate. What had gone wrong? When he managed to pull himself away from thoughts about the sparkle in her eyes, her rosy lips, her infectious laugh, and her perfect skin, he kicked himself for coming on so strongly toward her.

_What __was __I __thinking?_ he scolded himself. _Adam__'__s __never __going __to __let __me __live __this __down_.

And then it hit him.

The pumpkin juice.

Back at the Dining Hall—he had hit the floor when that Fairgarland firework went off. He was only there for a minute, but…

_A __love __potion! _If Will could have groaned or slapped himself in the face, he would have. As it was, all he could do was vow to kill Adam Sizemore if he ever got the chance.

Feeling an uncontrollable urge to kiss a girl, yet knowing full well that this feeling was nothing but a superficial infatuation created by magical means, was one of the strangest sensations Will ever had. Try as he might, he couldn't shake his preoccupation with Kate. His rational side knew that what he was feeling wasn't real. But there was another part of him that didn't especially care if it were real or not. This part of him tried to convince his rational side that Kate would make the perfect girlfriend, even if he weren't hopped up on a Weasley's love potion.

As the minutes passed, Rational Will and Amorous Will managed to negotiate an uneasy truce. Rational Will conceded that Kate did, indeed, have many admirable traits: she was smart, she stood up for herself, and (to be honest) she wasn't that bad looking. For his part, Amorous Will agreed that serenading her with a sappy love song harmed his chances of ever getting a date with her far more than it helped.

Rational Will understood what a love potion could and couldn't do. Despite its name, it couldn't create love. It could only produce a fluttery preoccupation with the person intended as the target. (Which reminded him, Kate—_sigh_—would want to know that Adam had somehow stolen a strand of her hair or something similar to add to the potion and make her the object of Will's infatuation. He shuddered to think what Kate would do to his roommate when she found out, but as he lay there contemplating the ceiling, he didn't really care.)

Rational Will also knew the effects of the potion were bound to wear off, eventually. He hoped he would be himself again by tomorrow. He would have to be very careful around Kate until then.

Finally, Rational Will understood that a love potion could override a person's common sense, but it couldn't bypass his or her sense of right and wrong. It could make him act like a blubbering idiot, but there were lines it couldn't make him cross. If it could, it would be classified as Dark magic—no better than an Imperius curse.

Amorous Will, however, was tired of listening to Rational Will's explanations. This side of Will only wanted to know how much longer until Kate came back. He was desperate to find a way to apologize and, with any luck, earn a second chance with her.

Eventually, the door to the Proudfeather dormitory swung open. Will felt a blast of cold air blow up his pant leg. A second later the shouting and cheering of his housemates fell to dead silence.

"Will!" Marc Lantier called. Open mouthed, Will's roommate stared down at him with his dark brown eyes. He pulled his wand from inside his cloak and waved it over Will's rigid form.

"_Finite_," he said. Will's arms and legs came unstuck. With a sigh, he struggled to sit up.

"What the—?"

"Where is he?" Will spat. "Where's Adam?"

"What's the matter, Will? What happened to your face?" Adam had come up behind Marc. He, too, looked down on his roommate with surprise and concern.

Will stumbled to his feet and practically fell into Rodney as he reached for his wand and pointed it at Adam. His whole body stiffly protested the sudden movement, but the pain merely added to Will's determination to hex the living daylights out of Adam.

Suddenly his brother Tom was at his side, restraining his wand arm. "Hold on!" he commanded. "Slow down, Will! What's gotten into you?"

"Ask _him_ what's gotten into me!" Will shouted, glaring at Adam. "He's the one who put it in my pumpkin juice!"

"What are you talking about, Will? I didn't put anything in your pumpkin juice!"

"Oh, no? Are you sure you didn't want to try out another of those stupid Wizard Wheezes on me? Have a little fun?"

"Will," Adam said softly. He wasn't grinning or winking at Marc, and his voice conveyed honesty and concern. "I swear by my mother's wand, I didn't put anything in your pumpkin juice. Now, can you please settle down and tell us what in the name of Eudora Malkin is going on?"

"Let go!" Will thundered at his brother as he yanked his hand away. Rather than charge again at Adam, however, he stalked out of the dormitory into the cold, gray afternoon.

The problem was, he _believed_ Adam. If his roommate had been responsible for the love potion, he'd have found a way to watch the fireworks go off when Will tried to make a move on Kate—and would have been the first to spread the news far and wide when Kate shot him down.

Will trudged across the rolling fields behind Osserly Hall, headed nowhere in particular. He had to be alone, let his head clear, and figure out what had happened. Some older kids were walking along the small wooded lake area that took up much of the far end of the Malkin campus. He spied Greg Mallary and his girlfriend, Ann Wulverston. Ann seemed agitated about Greg paying too much attention to some other girl—Will didn't know who they were talking about, nor did he care. But Greg calmed Ann down with some obvious flattery, and before long the two Quickfangs were holding hands and whispering in each other's ears

The sight of them made Will's heart sink into his stomach. _Kate_, he thought. Rational Will worried about what he had done to their friendship. Amorous Will wished he were holding her hand as they walked beside the lake.

Surely the love potion would wear off soon.

But the question remained: Who gave it to him?

* * *

><p>Author's note: Another request from my daughter was a love potion. Not sure what to think about that...<p> 


	6. Voices in the Night

Will sat under a tree beside the lake until sunset. As the shadows stretched across the ground and blanketed the campus in night, a lone figure at last approached him.

It was Dana Good, Kate's best friend. Her wand cast a golden glow into the space between her and Will.

"You're not going to do anything…weird, are you?" she asked, raising her wand as if preparing to hex.

"Love potions don't work that way," Will sighed. "You're perfectly safe."

"Good."

The two did nothing but stare at each other for several minutes. Finally, Dana spoke again.

"We missed you at supper."

Will shrugged and looked down at his hands.

"Kate told me what happened. She was pretty mad."

"I figured that out for myself, thanks."

"We talked about it all afternoon in my room. She wanted to go back and hex you some more, but I talked her out of it."

"Thanks. I'm sorry you had to miss the game."

"From what I hear, it's just as well. Y'all clobbered us, ten to four. Apparently Felicia and Phinehas were great, though—better than some of the older players, even."

"That should make Gus Burlington happy."

There was another long, awkward silence.

"Anyway, I convinced Kate it wasn't like you to…well…you know. So we figured it had to be some kind of love potion. Pretty embarrassing, huh?"

"Ya think?"

"After what happened with Daniel and Victor and Kenny, we thought Adam Sizemore must have been behind it. You should have seen Kate go after him! If your brother hadn't held her back…. Well, let's just say all the Proudfeathers pretty much know what happened to you now. But Adam says he didn't slip you anything. He even showed us the packing slip from that practical joke kit he got for Christmas. It didn't have a love potion in it—they cost extra."

Dana shifted from one foot to the other. Now that the sun had set, it was getting colder.

"Kate just wanted me to tell you she knows it wasn't your fault."

Amorous Will jumped at the thought that he still had a chance with Kate. Rational Will called Amorous Will an ugly name and told him to shut up.

"Tell her I'm sorry," Will said. "I'd tell her myself, but under the circumstances—"

"I understand," Dana said, blushing. "If you want, I can go with you to find Madame Glapion and see if she can whip up an antidote."

"I'll be okay," Will said. "It's already starting to wear off. I'll just…keep my distance from Kate for a while."

"Suit yourself."

Dana extended her hand and helped Will to his feet.

Will went straight to his room. His face flushed pink at the whistles and attaboys the older Proudfeathers directed toward him. He just stomped through the common room to his bedroom, changed into his pajamas, and crawled into bed.

He dreamed he was alone with Kate, holding hands by the fire in the Proudfeather common room. On the wizard radio Wayne Gidgen, the twangy country music singer, was crooning "Love'll Boil and Bubble." He leaned in to give Kate a kiss, but suddenly Archie the ghost appeared out of the carriage house and challenged him to a duel. Without warning, the spirit started whacking him with his ghostly wand—which was all too solid for Will's taste! All the while a raven watched him from the carriage house roof.

He tried to say, "I give up," but all that came out of his mouth was froglike croaking. At last Archie vanished into the night—but only to be replaced by a gang of dog-headed men who took up where the ghost left off.

Will awoke at sunrise Sunday morning feeling as if he had barely slept at all. He ate breakfast at the end of the Proudfeather table, as far from Kate as possible. He gave her a shy wave and mouthed the words, "I'm sorry." She smiled and waved back, but her face darkened when Kenny Garlwood gave her a wolf whistle. Apparently the story of yesterday's "adventure" had traveled fast.

By Monday morning Will's swollen face was back to normal and he was mostly over the effects of the love potion. He still felt slightly lightheaded when Kate entered a room, but he no longer felt the urge to stand on his desk and proclaim his undying love for her.

The clearer his mind became, however, the more curious he became about who had slipped him the love potion in the first place. Who would play such a trick on him and Kate? Of his roommates, Adam and Marc were the obvious suspects, but he had already scratched them from the list. He thought about Kate's roommates: Felicia Hyatt, April Pucey, and Delta Marchbanks. April and Delta pretty much kept to themselves and didn't seem to have much sense of humor at any rate. Nor could Will imagine Felicia being involved, especially when she would have wanted all her friends there supporting her at the Quodpot game.

During Defense Against the Dark Arts, Mr. Malleus reviewed previous material in preparation for an upcoming unit on Separating Dark Arts Fact from Fiction. He stood before the class in his plain, dark robe, gazing over the third-year Proudfeathers and Fairgarlands. As always, his beard was neatly trimmed and his upper lip clean-shaven.

"What makes the Dark Arts Dark?" he said. "If we're not careful, we'll call things Dark simply because we don't like them, or because someone uses them against us. That's fuzzy thinking."

Students scrambled to take down every word.

"If something is truly Dark magic, there's a clear reason for it. These reasons have to do with either source, cost, or effect. Now, who can tell me about magic with a Dark source?" Half a dozen hands flew into the air.

"Miss Good?"

"What about magic that draws its power from some sort of negative emotion?"

"Excellent," Mr. Malleus said. "Magic that is powered by channeling hatred, fear, or other destructive states of mind are Dark because they give strength to aspects of ourselves that ought rather to be brought under control."

A Fairgarland boy raised his hand. "Yes, Mr. McGregor?" the Defense teacher asked.

"What about magic that derives from Dark spirits? Don't some Dark wizards bind spirits like specters or wendigos to gain their power?"

"An excellent example—and very dangerous. You never know when a Dark spirit will be able to turn the tables and gain power from _you_! Now, what about cost? How can magic have a Dark cost? Miss Burroughs?"

Kate cleared her throat. "Well, doesn't some magic only work by hurting other people? I mean, aren't their spells that take a person's blood or pain in order to work?"

"Indeed, Miss Burroughs. There are even spells so Dark that one must commit murder to make them effective." Everyone sat stunned at this revelation. "Needless to say, any magic that feeds on the misery of others fits the very definition of Dark Arts.

"There's one more. Who can tell me about Dark effects?"

Will raised his hand. "Magic that's Dark because of what it's intended to do, even if you don't have to hurt anybody or damage your own soul to do it."

"Can you give us an example? Anyone?"

"Magic that causes suffering," a Fairgarland girl said.

"Or death," said Marc.

"Or robs a person of free will," said Will.

As he said the words, Will's thoughts turned back to the love potion someone had slipped him. What if it hadn't been meant as a joke at all? What if it was an attack? There were so many ways his encounter with Kate could have ended far worse than it did. Kate might have thrown more at him than a couple of simple hexes—in fact, that's exactly what she had intended to do before Dana talked her out of it. Will might have ended up in the Infirmary just like Steve Dortch did.

Or, what if he had done something that really hurt Kate instead of just embarrassing her? He could have been suspended—maybe even expelled.

He didn't like the thought of anyone being out to get him, but wouldn't the guilty party have come forward by now if it were only a practical joke?

Things hadn't been right since before Christmas, when he saw that strange dog-headed figure fleeing the place where Steve Dortch got his stomach cramps. Whatever it was Will saw must have been serious—even if he had no idea what it was! Now it seemed someone was trying to scare him away, maybe even get rid of him. The dog-headed creature had begun to haunt Will's dreams. He was sure Kevin Guinfort was somehow involved. He just didn't know how the pieces of the puzzle fit together.

The last week of January was mostly free of excitement. By Wednesday lunch Will felt sure enough of himself to sit in his normal seat in the Dining Hall across from Kate and Felicia. His only symptom was a slight quickening of his pulse whenever he made eye contact with Kate, but he at last felt he was in control of his emotions when she was near. Amorous Will had subtly slipped away—and good riddance!

That night after supper, Will returned to the library to do the last bit of research on a paper Mr. Gaunt had assigned about the differences between the Agrippan and Chaldean methods of Arithmancy. Will had little affection for his brooding Arithmancy teacher, but he felt more confident parsing out the hidden numerical significance of words and phrases than he ever did casting spells or mixing potions.

Having finally documented everything in his paper to his satisfaction, Will set his books on the book-return cart, gathered up his things, and left. He stopped on the library steps to gaze across Malkin Academy's impressive tree-lined front lawn. Even in the dead of winter, there was something vibrant and beautiful about Will's school, especially under a starry night sky.

As he stood there, however, his reverie was broken by whispered voices behind him.

"…if you know what's good for you!"

Someone was arguing. From the sound of it, they were just around the corner, up next to the wall of the library and away from the porch lights that illumined the main entrance.

"You're the one who should watch out, Guinfort." The voice was vaguely familiar, even in a whisper, but Will couldn't immediately place it. "You think I don't know what you've been up to?"

Will stood on the library steps as still as possible.

"What are you gonna do? Tell Goates?"

"You're in over your head, if you know it or not. I'd walk away while I had the ch—"

The voices suddenly hushed as a couple of first-years burst out of the library loudly complaining about how much homework they had been assigned.

A cloaked figure stalked from around the side of the building toward the Quickfang and Strongfoot dorms.

It was Rick Lombard, and he didn't look happy.

There was no sign of Kevin Guinfort, though he was obviously the person Rick had been arguing with. Will figured he left in another direction—and he wondered what the two Quickfangs had been talking about.

He remembered what Rick had said in Virginia at the Rapiers–Bombers game about his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. He clearly believed Mr. Malleus didn't do enough to prepare students for the "real world." He and Tony had said a wizard should take the initiative and put the enemy on the defensive instead of simply responding to threats that had already materialized.

And Rick knew what Will had long suspected: that Kevin Guinfort was up to something.

Part of Will was relieved that he wasn't the only one who distrusted the Quickfang fourth-year. It meant this mystery—whatever it was—wasn't all on his own shoulders any more. Rick was a competent fifth-year student. Though, like most Quickfangs, he could be intense at times, he wasn't often overbearing. His likeable personality made him a favorite of many of his teachers and the kind of student other kids looked up to.

Did Rick know about the dog-headed man? Will pondered whether there was a way to ask him, to let him know he was willing to help. If Rick went to a teacher, Will would be more than happy to back up his story and tell what he saw that day underneath the bleachers.

But Will didn't think Rick would go to a teacher without proof. He seemd to have an independent streak, and he obviously didn't think much of Mr. Malleus. Furthermore, whatever Guinfort was up to, it sounded very serious. Will couldn't imagine Rick bringing teachers into this until he had enough evidence to prove his suspicions.

Rick was friends with Tony Segola, who was roommates with Will's brother, Tom. For all he knew, Rick had already gone to Tony and Tom with anything he knew or suspected about Guinfort's wrongdoing.

Before he knew it, Will was standing in front of the door to the Proudfeather dormitory.

"Stormy Weather," he said, and the door swung open.

* * *

><p>As January came to a close, Will had little time to research Dark creatures and bizarre transfigurations. He kept his eyes and ears open, however, for any sign that Rick had decided to "take the initiative," as he had advocated in December.<p>

Will was near to giving up his search when the answer almost literally landed in his lap on Wednesday evening, the first of February.

When Will came in from supper, two first-year girls were sitting at a study table in the Proudfeather common room. Jessica Robinson was a shy Muggle-born girl who had become fast friends with Kate the previous summer. He didn't know much more about Susan Jacobs than her name. The two girls seemed deep in serious conversation. When Jessica saw Will come in, she motioned for him to join them.

"What's up?" he asked.

Jessica seemed nervous, as if she wasn't sure how to say what she wanted to say. At last, Susan took over.

"Is it true about Vice Principal Goates?" she asked in hushed tones.

"Is what true?" Will said. He noticed they had their History of Magic textbook open in front of them and had a suspicion where this conversation might be headed.

"Susan was reading ahead for Mr. Rainey's class," Jessica said, an expression of anxiety on her face. "She found this." Jessica turned the book so Will could read:

_**THE DREAD ARCANUM**_

_**Wizard historians agree that the causes of the American Civil War were firmly rooted in Muggle concerns. But only the wizarding community knows that the Dread Arcanum, a secret society of Dark wizards, operated behind the scenes, increasing the animosity—and indeed the suffering—on both sides. **_

_** The **__**Dread **__**Arcanum**__** was**__** led **__**by **__**two **__**brothers: **__**Lycus **__**and **__**Actaeus **__**Goates. **__**The **__**Goates **__**brothers **__**are **__**widely **__**regarded **__**as **__**the **__**most **__**nefarious **__**Dark **__**wizards **__**ever **__**born **__**in **__**the **__**New **__**World. **__**At **__**the **__**height **__**of **__**their **__**power, **__**they **__**had **__**managed **__**to **__**sow **__**such **__**chaos **__**and **__**bloodshed **__**that **__**not **__**even **__**the **__**Muggle **__**world **__**was **__**safe **__**from **__**their**__** schemes.**_

There followed a list of the Goates brothers' atrocities, edited so as not to upset overmuch the imaginations of eleven- and twelve-year-old children.

"D-does this mean…?" Jessica began.

"That Ms. Goates is related to Dark wizards?" Will completed her thought. "I'm afraid so. Actaeus Goates had two sons, Mopsus and Argyron. She's like the great-granddaughter or something of Mopsus. She doesn't like to talk about it. If you hadn't noticed, she tends to be little stand-offish."

"My cousin Jeremy Loew is the editor of the school newspaper," Susan said. "He says there's a story in the archives about how students ten or fifteen years ago thought Ms. Goates was Dark!"

Will laughed out loud. "I've heard that one, too," he smiled. "Somebody always tell the firsties that around this time of year, when they first start reading about the Dread Arcanum. When I heard it I pretended to be sick for a week so I could get out of Transfiguration class."

"So…it's not true?"

"I checked the archives myself. It was a joke for Halloween! The _Caterwaul_ staff conducted a survey of students asking which teachers they thought were most likely to turn Dark. Vice Principal Goates came in first."

"Th-that's it?" Susan sounded quite relieved.

"Well, yeah. Except that, as I understand it, Principal Towne hit the entire _Caterwaul_ staff with the worst punishments he could think of, and even suspended the general editor for a month! You didn't make jokes about Dark magic back then, when Voldemort was at the height of his power over in the U. K."

"B-but you've got to admit," Jessica whispered, "Ms. Goates is awfully scary."

"I've heard her Patronus takes the form of a pit bull," Will shuddered. "But she's not Dark. Not even close. I mean, she teaches Transfiguration at the biggest wizarding school in America and she won't even—"

Will stopped in mid-sentence as a 3,000-watt searchlight went off in his head.

"Gotta go!" he shouted.

He ran out the door and sprinted all the way to the library. Over the last three years, Will had practically memorized the library's floorplan. As soon as he bolted through the huge oaken double doors, he scrambled up to the second floor. The previous year he had used a book called _Major __Events __in __Nineteenth-Century__ Wizarding_ for a research paper in Defense Against the Dark Arts. If he was right….

He found it. He remembered. The table of contents told him the detail he was looking for might be in chapter seven, "The Rise and Fall of the Dread Arcanum."

Vice Principal Goates was an acknowledged expert in the science of Transfiguration. She had even studied overseas after graduating from Malkin Academy. When it came to Transfiguration, there was nothing she couldn't do. Will doubted even a Shield Charm could get in her way. She simply knew everything there was to know about her subject. But she had never chosen to become an Animagus. And when Will remembered why, he found the clue he was looking for:

_**Members of the Dread Arcanum operated in secret, under the cover of darkness. They struck fear in the hearts of their victims by means of the Cynocephalus Transformation, a procedure by which the caster's head and face take on the characteristics of a large, vicious dog.**_

That was it. It wasn't mentioned much—Will figured textbook writers shied away from giving too many sensationalistic details—but the dog's head was the sign of the Dread Arcanum, a secret society that terrorized the entire country 150 years ago.

As much as Ms. Goates loved the theory and practice of Transfiguration, Will figured she wanted to distance herself as much as possible from her notorious ancestor. No one could control what one's Animagus form might be—it was always something suitable to the temperament of the caster, but all but impossible to predict. If there were the slightest chance hers would be that of a dog….

The truth settled in Will's stomach like a stone. Someone was imitating the Dread Arcanum, he realized with a jolt. Right there, at Malkin Academy, something bad was happening. Something Dark. He had to figure out what was going on. He had to talk to Rick Lombard.

Will marched down the library steps. The winter sun had long since set, and the night air was cold and dry. Will pulled his scarf up over his nose and mouth and set off down the cobblestone path that led to the Proudfeather and Fairgarland dormitories.

If he continued past the dorms, he would end up at the Quodpot stadium. If he veered to the left, he would end up on the vast back lawn of Osserly Hall. Ringing that lawn were numerous outbuildings, including the broom shed and the carriage house. As he gazed across the lawn from the covered walkway linking his dorm with Osserly Hall, he caught a glimpse of something large and black flitting across the moonlit sky.

All of a sudden, Will grimaced in pain. He felt sore all over, the same as he had the night he dozed off in the Proudfeather common room. His head felt heavy and his vision was blurred. What was going on?

Will looked around. He was standing in front of the broom shed. But that wasn't right—he was on his way to his dorm. Why would he be next to the broom shed? Above him he heard a low, throaty rattle. He peered upward. A large raven gazed down upon him from the broom shed's roof.

Stiff and hurting, he trudged across the lawn, entered the Proudfeather common room, and slumped down, exhausted, in one of the overlarge leather chairs in front of the fireplace.

The clock on the fireplace mantel said it was nearly midnight.

_I __left __the __library __around __six-__thirty! _Will said. _That __was __only __a __few __minutes __ago!_

Will stumbled to bed.

Once again, he dreamed of dog-headed men, a raven, and the carriage house.


	7. The Dread Arcanum

Will was hurt worse than he thought and he couldn't understand why. When his roommates left for breakfast Thursday morning, he stayed in bed. He had hardly slept at all, and his muscles ached as if he had spent the night hauling concrete. He was still in bed at lunchtime, when Rodney came back to change his shirt after a Mimbulus Mimbletonia squirted Stinksap all over it during Herbology.

Rodney's presence inspired him to get moving, however. He dragged himself out of bed and into the shower. His one o'clock class was Defense Against the Dark Arts. If he hurried—and skipped lunch—he could get there in plenty of time.

Just as Will entered Osserly Hall and started to bound up the stairs, Mr. Malleus appeared at the top of the stairs flanked by Principal Towne and Vice Principal Goates. The old, pony-tailed Principal wore a look of stern concentration. Behind them were a couple of unfamiliar wizards in plain black cloaks.

The adult wizards stormed down the staircase and turned to the right through a set of double doors that led to a classroom wing and, beyond a covered portico, to the Quickfang and Strongfoot dormitories.

Stunned and puzzled, Will climbed up the stairs and slipped into the Defense classroom. His fellow third-year Proudfeathers and Fairgarlands were already in their seats, talking quietly among themselves in agitated tones.

"What's going on?" Will asked Phinehas as he took the seat next to him.

"Goates came by just as we were getting here," he said. "She didn't look happy."

"Were those men with her? The ones in the black cloaks?"

"Yeah," Dana said, "and they said something about calling Principal Towne."

"Splud!"

The spontaneous curse came from a Fairgarland boy on the other side of the room. He was looking out a window that overlooked the lawn that stretched from Osserly Hall to the great iron gates at the entrance to the Malkin campus. It didn't take long for his fellow students to huddle around the windows to see what was going on.

The strangers were heading toward Osserly Hall.

"Aurors?" Semira Choudry, a short Fairgarland girl asked. She bobbed up and down to catch a glimpse over the shoulder of two or three taller kids.

"I don't think so," Felicia Hyatt said. "They look like just regular Magical Law Enforcement. Who's that with them?"

Will managed to shoulder his way close enough to a window to see outside.

"It's Guinfort," he said.

The fourth-year Quickfang boy glowered as the two cloaked wizards escorted him from Parkinson Hall across the lawn toward Osserly Hall. One of the M. L. E. officers was talking to Vice Principal Goates; the other had his wand at his side—but clearly pointed in Guinfort's direction.

As the student and his stern-faced escort passed under the roof of the porch and out of sight of the curious students pressed against the second-floor windows, the entire class erupted in a flurry of speculations about what was going on.

Will suspected he knew. He'd bet anything Rick had tipped someone off about whatever it was Guinfort was up to.

Five minutes passed and there was still no sign of Mr. Malleus. Someone else, however, showed up at the door. It was Mrs. Cresswell, Principal Towne's secretary. In her usual soft-spoken way, the older British witch announced that Mr. Malleus had been detained and that his classes were cancelled for the rest of the day.

It didn't take long until most students had pieced together the story of what happened. Kate found out from her cousin Merlina, a fourth-year Quickfang, that Magical Law Enforcement officers pulled Kevin Guinfort out of Potions class for questioning in the Principal's office. Tony Segola told Tom that his friend Rick Lombard told him that they had also searched the boy's dorm room. Apparently they found a couple of books about the Dark Arts and some banned potion ingredients.

Will expected most kids would express shock that Guinfort had been involved in Dark magic. Indeed, many of them did. But Will couldn't help but note that most of his schoolmates instead talked about how quiet and secretive Guinfort was, and a few openly admitted they weren't terribly surprised to find out what he had been up to.

Mr. Malleus said nothing about the incident, which surprised no one. As head of Quickfang house and chief of campus security, Mr. Malleus was of course deeply involved in the proceedings. At supper Thursday night he sat impassively, arms crossed, as Principal Towne addressed the student body.

"As I'm sure you know," the principal said, "this afternoon Magical Law Enforcement officers were on campus. Having received an anonymous tip, I invited them here to look into certain accusations against a student. Pending an official investigation, that student has been temporarily suspended."

Students at all four tables began to whisper to their neighbors. Principal Towne never mentioned Guinfort's name, but everyone knew who he was talking about.

Mr. Towne continued, "I would remind you that the entire faculty holds all Malkin Academy students to the highest standards. We expect you to do your best academically. We also expect you to behave in such a way as to bring honor to yourselves, your families, and your school.

"I hope I don't have to tell you that Dark magic is nothing to play with. If you think it is…," Mr. Towne paused. Will thought he saw the old principal's eyes begin to water. "You are gravely mistaken."

That was all he said. He clapped his hands and the evening meal appeared on the Dining Hall's four long house tables. Will allowed himself to breathe. He was certain the "anonymous tip" had come from Rick Lombard, and he was relieved that it looked like he wouldn't have to get involved after all.

Thursday night and Friday were past before Will even noticed. For the first time in a long time, Will felt at ease. Friday night after supper, Will ran into Tony Segola as the two walked back to the Proudfeather dormitory.

"Hey, Will! Got a minute?" Tony called.

"I guess. What's up?"

Tony pulled Will aside under the covered portico. "Listen, Tom's birthday is coming up next month, right?" he said.

"Yeah," Will answered.

"Well, me and the guys are thinking about throwing him a little party. Do you have a minute to talk about it?"

"Sure."

"Not here, though," Tony looked around. "We want it to be a surprise. Come with me."

Tony led Will across the back lawn, past the broom shed and the other outbuildings behind Osserly Hall.

They stopped in front of the carriage house. As Tony muscled open the sliding wooden door, Will heard the sound of gently flapping wings. A raven flew overhead.

Inside the carriage house a single lantern bathed the room in dim orange light.

Without warning Will felt a booted foot kick him to the ground. Around him people were laughing. He heard the door creak as Tony closed it from the inside.

"Glad you could make it, Proctor!" The voice belonged to Rick Lombard.

Will scrambled to his feet. He couldn't believe his eyes. Rick stood beside a couple of other Quickfangs, Greg Mallary and Ann Wulverston, and the Strongfoot, Kenny Garlwood. Tony slipped into an empty space at Rick's right hand—and Will at last noticed they all had wands drawn. The five of them grinned, but there was nothing lighthearted about their demeanor. On the contrary, they looked like they might be about to commit murder.

"Wh-what…?" Will sputtered. He backed up until he hit the side of a school bus.

"We're getting tired of you poking your nose where it doesn't belong," Rick said. "And as fun as it's been Obliviating you all winter, Tony says if I keep it up you're going to start showing symptoms." He glanced at the Proudfeather boy at his right, then back at Will. "And that might make people suspicious."

Will felt like his heart was trying to break through his ribcage and escape. He felt suddenly cold all over.

"Y-you've been—"

"Twice!" Rick gloated. "The first time was in the library before Christmas. You overheard Greg and me talking. That one was on us. We should have been more careful.

"The second time was two nights ago. That one was on you: you never should have followed Simon to the carriage house."

"Simon is Rick's raven," Ann Wulverston said.

"But at least we had fun," Kenny Garlwood added.

Will remembered how tired and sore he felt Thursday morning, and how he seemed to have lost several hours between supper and the time he finally got back to the dorm.

"Oh," Rick continued, "I almost forgot. Tony got you once. You caught him sneaking into your common room."

"You gotta get to bed early if you want to keep those grades up, Will. You know that," Tony said with an air of mock concern.

Will still didn't have a clue what was going on. Why were they saying these things? What was happening?

"Of course, Guinfort was just as big a pain as you were," Greg Mallary said. "But I don't think he's going to cause us any more trouble." Everyone chuckled.

"But what to do with you?" Rick said. "If you and Guinfort were friends, we could have framed both of you together. As it is, you've forced us to be more…creative."

"Don't think we don't appreciate the challenge," Greg added.

"We had hoped spiking your pumpkin juice with Amortentia would keep you out of our hair for a little while. From what I hear that Burroughs hag throws a mean hex! But she turned out to be too blasted considerate to do a proper job."

"Maybe she likes you after all," Ann teased.

"So here's what we've decided," Rick continued. "We're going to tell you everything." Before, Will's tormentors merely chuckled. Now they laughed out loud.

"Mr. Segola, will you do the honors?"

"With pleasure, Mr. Lombard."

Tony cleared his throat and drew himself up as if about to deliver a speech. He stifled one last chuckle and said, "You see, Rick has invited all of us to study the Dark Arts with him. We meet here in the carriage house to practice."

As he pronounced the final word, the five of them lunged at Will. Rick and Greg grabbed him by both arms. Somebody grabbed his wand. The two boys hauled him toward a tiny opening in the far corner that he hadn't noticed before. It was nothing more than a gap between two boards, but as they approached it, it expanded to the dimensions of a narrow doorway. Rick and Greg shoved Will through the opening, which turned immediately to the left and led down a set of steep earthen stairs.

The others were close behind. Rick uttered the word "_Incarcerous_!" and long, sturdy ropes shot from his wand and wrapped themselves around Will like snakes.

Will fell to the ground. He was in a cellar with a bare dirt floor. On the far wall, near a rough-hewn wooden door, was a table stocked with cauldrons, a mortar and pestle, and dozens of vials of potion ingredients. On another wall was a bookshelf, mostly bare, but with several old, dusty books on the top shelf. There were also half a dozen old school desks in one corner in front of an equally ancient chalkboard.

"But…but Tony is Muggle-born!" Will cried.

Tony kicked Will in the gut. "What do you think we are?" he thundered "Do we look like a bunch of pasty English patch-robes? This isn't about blood purity. It's about power!"

"And who's got it," Greg added.

"And who doesn't," Rick said.

Through the hurricane of sights and sounds that had overtaken him, Will thought back to the Quodpot game in Virginia. "Take the initiative," Tony had said back then, "make an enemy adjust to _your_ game." Will realized he hadn't been talking about _Defense__ Against_ the Dark Arts. He was talking about the Dark Arts themselves.

For Tony—for all of them—"the enemy" wasn't vampires, werewolves, or Dark wizards.

It was Will.

"One of the problems with studying Dark magic," Rick said, "is that there are some things you just don't want to practice on your friends."

Rick turned around and strolled casually toward what looked like a workbench near the potions table. The shelf above it was full of glass jars and vials, each with a label stuck to its side. On the workbench itself was a wand, which Rick picked up in place of his own.

Rick retrieved a jar, walked over to Will, and yanked a handful of hair out of the frightened third-year's head. He slipped most of it into the jar, but dropped a couple of strands into a small black bag.

"This, for example," he said. "All right, everybody. Tonight's lesson is sympathetic magic—the applications Madame Glapion _doesn__'__t_ cover in Potions class!" Rick pulled a small metal tray closer to him on the potions table. He waved the wand (which Will suddenly realized must have been the one Malik Trimble had lost) and uttered an incantation.

"Now, who can tell me about sympathetic magic? Anyone?" He glared at Will. "Come on, Mr. Proctor, surely a brainy kid like you can explain the basic principals for us!"

Rick set the black bag on the tray. He paced back and forth in front of Will, who lay on the floor, jaws clenched.

"In simplest terms, it means that two objects that were once part of the same whole remain invisibly connected even after they are separated. For example, it is possible to use the hair, fingernails, or bodily fluids of a human subject to affect that subject magically. Can anyone give me an example?

"Love potions!" Ann shouted, caressing the back of Greg Mallary's neck.

"Excellent, Miss Wulverston," Rick grinned. "Can anyone think of another example?" He didn't wait for a response, however. Instead, he said, "How about something like this?"

He magicked a fire in a metal tray on the potions desk. Grabbing the bag in a pair of metal tongs, he brought it closer to the fire. At the same instant, Will felt a surge of searing heat rip through his body from his head to his toes. He felt as if he were on fire, but he wasn't. But it hurt worse than any hex he had ever endured, and it wouldn't have surprised him if his skin had started to blister.

After a few seconds, Rick pulled the bag away. The pain began to subside.

Will took quick, gasping breaths. He didn't see any way to escape, and it looked as if Rick was only getting started.

"That was a _gris-gris_," Rick explained. "You can use them to attack an enemy at a distance, as long as you have a sample from the victim's body." He stooped down in front of Will and said, "You'd be surprised how careless some witches and wizards can be with their body parts." He arose and gestured toward the jars on the workbench.

"It helps when your roommate thinks she's a hairdresser!" Ann Wulverston giggled.

"I'd remember that before I tried to be a hero, Proctor," Rick whispered. "We can get you any time we want. And we can get most of your friends, too. So you better watch out. The Dread Arcanum is about to rise again!"

With the last sentence Rick's voice began to change, to deepen. As he glared at Will his eyes changed color from blue to brown and his irises expanded to twice their normal size. His nose and jaw jutted forward, darkened, and began to sprout a fine cover of grayish-brown fur.

It was the same dog-headed form Will had seen in December—that had haunted his dreams. By now all five of them had transformed. Will couldn't tell if the snarling barks they made were intended to be curses or laughs of derision.

One of the dog-head creatures—it might have been Kenny Garlwood—tossed Will his wand.

"Now get out of here," Rick growled in a barely human voice. He waved his wand and uttered the incantation to remove Will's fetters.

Will sat frozen on the floor until another dog-head creature snapped, "Don't make us tell you twice!"

He scrambled up the stairs and out of the carriage house. The raven cawed and took to the air as Will ran out into the night.

A single thought propelled him forward: he had to tell someone. He had to find a teacher and warn them about what was going on. He headed straight to the faculty cabins. Students didn't often visit teachers in their quarters on the far end of campus from the Proudfeather dorm, but Will had been there often enough to find Mr. Corntassel's cabin. If anyone knew what to do, it would be his head of house.

He pounded on the door. He wasn't sure what time it was, but it couldn't have been terribly late. Sure enough, it wasn't but about a minute before the old Native American teacher opened his front door.

"Will Proctor?" he said in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"Mr. Corntassel!" Will cried. He stared up into his teacher's puzzled face.

"Yes, Will?"

He continued to stare. After a few seconds he realized he wasn't saying anything.

"Mr. Corntassel!" he began again.

"Take your time, Will," Mr. Corntassel said. "Is something the matter?"

Will stood there with his mouth hanging open and no words coming out.

"If you have a question about your homework, it can keep till Monday. You can come early if you like and I'll be happy to help you."

Will tried again to speak. Nothing happened.

"If this is some kind of joke, Will, I'm afraid I don't get it. Now, if you'll excuse me, you've interrupted my reading." Mr. Corntassel shut the door.

Will stood on the stoop for several minutes before eventually turning to go back to his dorm.

He wanted to tell Mr. Corntassel everything that had happened. He wanted that more than he had ever wanted anything, but for some reason he didn't. He couldn't.


	8. Satchel and Blossom

When he returned to his dorm room, he woke up Marc with his labored breathing. When Marc asked what he had been doing up so late, Will found he couldn't say a word.

The same thing happened the next morning at breakfast with Tom. More than anyone, he wanted to warn his brother about Tony. He made a point of sitting across the table from Tom rather than in his usual seat with the rest of the third-years. He tried to raise the issue three times, but each time the words simply evaporated from his tongue and even, it seemed, from his mind.

Later in the common room, Kate and Felicia invited him to play cards with them. He would have spilled the entire story to either of them, but he couldn't. Through three games of Exploding Snap and at least a dozen of Hex-Your-Neighbor, Will could talk about homework, Quodpot, or the soon-coming day trip to Malkinville as much as he liked, but as soon as he tried to tell them he had been captured and tortured by a bunch of fourth- and fifth-years, he suddenly, frustratingly, found he had nothing at all to say.

Will spent the rest of the weekend trying to tell someone—anyone—what had happened to him. He failed every time.

Tony Segola acted as if nothing had happened. Actually, neither he nor Tom were around much at all that weekend. Will knew Tom was having fits trying to figure out Sidereal Calculations in his Astronomy class. Tom and Tony were both practically camping out in the library, working on both Astronomy and the Isopsephy and Gematria problems Mr. Gaunt had assigned them in Arithmancy.

Tony's continued outward friendliness the few times he did run into Will almost convinced him it had all been a bad dream. Deep inside, Will wished that is all it was, but he knew better.

The week passed quickly. Will made several more attempts to alert a teacher that students were secretly studying the Dark Arts. Every time it was the same: Will worked out what he would say, practiced it several times in his head, lingered after class in order to speak to a teacher in private…and as soon as he opened his mouth it was as if the words slipped out of his head like fog melting away in the morning sun.

He could answer any of Madame Glapion's questions about the uses of bismuth and phosphorus in potion-making, but he couldn't answer her simple "What's wrong" when she noticed he seemed distracted.

As usual, he struggled with Charms and Transfiguration. If anything, his distraction made his spell-work even more erratic than usual. On the best of days, Will shuddered at what Vice Principal Goates had to say about his work in Transfiguration class. He did not have any good days the week following his encounter with the reconstituted Dread Arcanum.

Ms. Svenson-Benson spent the first week of February introducing the Younger Futhark, a runic alphabet somewhat simpler than the Elder Futhark she had introduced back in the fall. Most students struggled to catch on—they had only just been exposed to the Elder Futhark, and now their teacher seemed to be pulling the rug out from under them by springing this new set of runes on them. Her offhand comment that there was also an Anglo-Saxon rune alphabet they would start working on in March elicited panicked groans from nearly everyone. For Will, however, trying to master the strange angular shapes and the magical properties they embodied was a welcome diversion.

At lunch on Thursday another wand went missing. This one belonged to a second-year Fairgarland named Emily Smith. She had just used it in Defense Against the Dark Arts, she said, but had somehow lost track of it by the time she arrived at the Dining Hall.

When Tony Segola got up from lunch, Will followed him to the door, trembling. He didn't know what to do, but he felt he had to do something.

"I bet you feel all big and powerful, stealing some little girl's wand," he whispered. He felt sweat trickling down his forehead. He was suddenly warm.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Proctor," Tony said. "And if you don't mind, I've got some work to do in the library." He brushed past Will. The two boys were alone in the entryway.

Will realized his wand had found his way into his trembling right hand.

"Not so fast," he said, his voice quaking.

Tony wheeled around, saw Will standing there with his wand outstretched, and scoffed. He took two steps back in Will's direction.

"Do you even know how to use that thing?" Tony smirked. "Or are you still trying to memorize the instruction manual?"

Tony casually reached behind his back for his own wand. He didn't seem remotely concerned.

"_Ex-expelliarmus_!" Will shouted. A jet of light flashed from his wand to Tony's but Tony merely flinched when the spell hit him.

Behind him, Will heard the door of the Dining Hall creak open. Tony's eyes darted over Will's shoulder. He dropped his wand at once and grabbed his wand-arm as if something had bit him.

"What's going on here?" Mr. Malleus thundered.

"Ask him!" Tony wailed.

Mr. Malleus turned to Will. "Well?" he said.

Will opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

"No magic in the hallways," Mr. Malleus stated, "and especially no dueling. Fifteen points from Proudfeather."

Mr. Malleus headed upstairs toward his classroom. Tony grinned, retrieved his wand, and walked out the front door.

Will hung his head.

* * *

><p>Friday afternoon Will did something he had never done before. He scored a B (for "Beastly") on a History of Magic exam. Mr. Rainey, the History of Magic teacher, made no comment, but as he handed back Will's paper Will could see the disappointment in his eyes. Anxiety about Rick and his Dread Arcanum was taking its toll on Will's ability to concentrate.<p>

The carriage house haunted his thoughts. Whenever he had a class on the back side of Osserly Hall, he found his eyes wandering toward the window to see what might be happening there. Apart from an occasional glimpse of Mr. Slackbrow working on a school bus or putting away his tools, or Archie the ghost floating past the doorway, there never seemed to be any activity in the old, wooden building. At night, however, Will relived his frightening experience there in his dreams.

It had been a week since he first learned the truth about Rick and his friends. No matter how many times he tried to tell anyone, he couldn't.

It was up to him, he realized. As much as the thought terrified him, Will knew it was true. He was going to have to do something, because nobody else knew what was going on—and apparently it was impossible for him to tell anybody. That very night, and above his own vehement internal reservations, he pulled on his cloak and ducked out of the Proudfeather common room. If he could figure out what Rick was up to, what he might be planning, then maybe—just maybe—Will could stop him.

He approached the carriage house cautiously. His teeth chattered, and not merely from the cold. There was no sign of activity. There were no lights shining and no voices in the shadows. The moon, only a few days past full, bathed the campus in cold, silvery light. Will started when he saw Rick's pet raven fluttering overhead. That probably meant they were down in the secret basement learning another "lesson" in the Dark Arts. It was what Will had hoped, but at the same time he dreaded the task that lay before him.

_I__ don__'__t __have __to __face __them_, he told himself. _Just __slip __in __and __listen __at __the __door_. He stopped and bent over, hands on his knees, to keep from hyperventilating.

_That__'__s __all __I __have __to __do. __They__'__ll __never __know __I __was __even __there. __Just __calm__ down. __If __I __can __overhear __their __plans, __maybe __I __can __stop __them_.

Will had no sooner ducked into the carriage house than the raven started squawking.

_Oh, __crap!_ he thought.

Down below, someone whispered, "Check it out!" Will drew his wand and prepared to cast a Stunning Spell on the first person to show his face from behind the gap in the boards that hid the secret entrance to the carriage house basement.

The gap began to expand. Will now saw light coming from below and a shadowy form on the stairs.

"_Stupefy_!" he cried as red light erupted from his wand. It missed its target, however. Half a second later Greg Mallary appeared in the doorway and fired his own Stunner. Will crumpled to the floor.

He was vaguely aware of being bustled down the narrow stairs and into the lair of the Dread Arcanum. He had fully regained consciousness just in time to see Rick and Greg grabbing wands from the workbench.

"Enough is enough, Proctor," Rick said. "We've given you every opportunity to walk away. Are you so dense you don't understand? You're not going to tell anybody, and you're not going to stop us by yourself!" He chuckled. "I hate to break it to you, but you're just not that good a wizard!"

"Enough talk," Ann said. She sized up Will from head to toe. "I want to try something new. The one in our homework from last time." She aimed her wand at Will.

"Be my guest," Rick said. "But don't use that."

Greg offered his girlfriend the wand he had been holding.

"I bet you know about _Prior __Incantato_, don't you Proctor? Reveals the most recent spells a wand has cast." It dawned on Will that they could cast whatever spells they wanted with a stolen wand and never have to fear if their own wands were searched.

"We're working on a way around that little obstacle," Rick grinned. "After all, you never get quite as good results with someone else's wand."

He nodded to Ann.

"You're sure this won't leave any marks?" she asked.

"That's what the book says," Greg said with a shrug.

She strolled over to where Will sat, still slightly disoriented from Greg's Stun Spell. She tapped her stolen wand against her bare palm two or three times, then glared down at Will with evil in her eyes. She pointed the wand straight at him.

"_Crucio_!" she shouted.

Will felt a sudden contraction in his stomach, as if he had been kicked very hard. He looked up at Ann, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

She performed the Cruciatus Curse again. Will doubled over in pain.

"You're not doing it right," Rick said. "You've got to really mean it or you might as well just stun him."

He stood over Will and trained his own stolen wand on him. When Rick bellowed the incantation, Will wailed like a banshee and curled up in a tight ball.

"See the difference?" Rick said. "You've got to _want_ him to suffer. Now, try again."

* * *

><p>Will awoke in complete darkness. He lay on a cold dirt floor, but that was all he could tell. He reached for his wand. It wasn't in his belt or the pocket of his cloak. He felt around on the floor in every direction. Nothing. His body ached from head to foot. It was far worse than the other times he had awoken stiff and sore. After his initial burst of movement, he lay still for several minutes, listening to his own labored breathing.<p>

"All right, Rick," he sighed, his lower lip quivering. "You win."

It was so dark Will couldn't even see his hand in front of his face. The only sound he heard was his own breathing. If he had even a little bit of light, he might—

Then it hit him. He reached into his pocket. He had a small number of Daricks and Flitters, a candy wrapper, and the small golden bauble his brother had given him for Christmas.

As soon as the Shiny Thing cleared his pocket, it began to emit a dim, golden light. Will opened the front, and it almost seemed to glow. By adjusting the knobs along the side, Will discovered he could change the color of the light, focus it into a tight beam, or make it pulsate at various speeds. He eventually got it to a strong, white glow, not quite as bright as a Wand-lighting Charm but bright enough. At least now he could see where he was.

He was in a tunnel. Only the wooden braces along the walls let him know it wasn't a natural underground passageway. He stood up, his weary limbs protesting the movement, and the tunnel ceiling nearly brushed the top of his hair. Five or six feet away, his wand lay discarded on the floor.

He stumbled to retrieve it. He had read a little about the Cruciatus Curse, but nothing could have prepared him for the mind-splitting agony the Dread Arcanum had inflicted upon him. How long did they stand over him, taking turns?

Will kept his wand ready as he explored the tunnel by the light of his Shiny Thing. He had no way of knowing which way he had come from, and even if he did he wasn't sure it was safe to head back. In the carriage house basement there had been a door. It probably led to the tunnel where he now stood. But what was at the other end?

Will had no time to decide, however. Behind him he heard a distinct popping sound. He spun around and trained his wand on two tiny figures that were not there before.

They were the size of small children, although they were entirely bald and had huge, floppy, pointed ears. They gasped in fright at the sight of Will. One of the strange creatures pushed the other aside and raised a long-fingered hand as if to defend against any spell Will might be tempted to throw.

"You see?" said the creature cowering behind his (her?) companion. "Satchel told Blossom there were students in the tunnels! Satchel knows what he hears. He does not make jokes about rule-breakers and trespassers!"

The other creature gazed up at Will with huge, lavender eyes.

"Young Mister shouldn't be wandering in the tunnels," it said. If anything, its voice was even higher-pitched than the first, and Will wondered if it might in fact be female. This one wore a fringed, white, sleeveless tunic. The other wore a fringed vest, breechcloth, and leggings—all also pearly white.

"I-I'm sorry," he said. "I'm lost. Can you help me?"

"What is young Mister doing in the tunnels?" the creature in the tunic asked. She (at least Will was fairly certain it was a "she") eyed Will suspiciously. "The tunnels is only for Yunwi Tsunsdi."

"Yu-Yunwi Tsunsdi?" Will asked. The words sounded vaguely familiar. "Oh, you mean elves?" He remembered reading somewhere about the elves that worked at Malkin Academy. They weren't the same as the elves wealthy wizards brought over from Europe in colonial times, however. These elves were native to America.

"Young Mister may call Blossom and Satchel 'elves' if he likes." The tunic-clad creature offered this as if it were a concession. The other one shuddered behind his companion. "But he must not wander in the tunnels."

"I-I'm sorry," Will said. "Like I told you, I'm lost. If you could lead me to the surface, I'll just head back to my room. Honest."

The other elf dared to speak. "Young Mister says he is sorry!" His great brown eyes began to well up with tears. "Did Blossom hear? Young Mister…apologizes…to…us!"

Blossom—for that must have been the name of the female elf in the tunic—glared at her male counterpart, Satchel. "Satchel forgets his station," she sniffed. Glancing up at Will, she said, "Come along, young Master. Blossom and Satchel will help you find your way."

Without another word, the female elf turned and began heading down the tunnel. Will followed close behind, with Satchel hanging at this side and gazing up at him, awestruck.

It was slow going for Will since there were stretches of tunnel where the ceiling was even lower than the place where he woke up. He tried to keep up with Blossom, which became harder on the few occasions where there was a fork in the tunnel. Blossom wasn't inclined to slow down, and there were a couple of times Will wasn't sure which fork she had taken.

Satchel stayed close by his side, however, and guided him along.

"Satchel?" Will said. "What did your friend mean about forgetting your station?"

The male elf whimpered.

"I'm sorry," Will said, "I didn't mean to offend you."

"_Didn__'__t__ mean __to __offend __me?_ Young Master _didn__'__t __mean __to__ offend__ Satchel_!" The elf nearly broke down on the spot.

"P-please!" Will said. Ahead of him, he could hear Blossom's dismissive sighs. "It's just that I've never met an elf before. I'm trying to understand…."

"If young Mister must know," Blossom interrupted, her hands on her hips twenty feet in front of them, "Satchel works at Malkin School, but Satchel is not Yunwi Tsunsdi. The grandfathers of his grandfathers came to this land from across the ocean."

Will furrowed his brow. "Y-you don't mean to say you treat him differently just because of his…er…race?"

"No, young Mister, no!" Satchel protested. "Yunwi Tsunsdi always treats Satchel kindly. They is more than patient with him, considering…." He glanced to the right and to the left, as if preparing to divulge some terrible secret. "The truth is…" he trembled, and tears began to stream down his cheeks. "Satchel…has…been…"

"Yes?"

"…has…been…FREED!"

Satchel collapsed in a heaving, sobbing heap on the cold dirt floor.

Blossom strode back to where Satchel wept and patted him on the back. Will could see both pity and disappointment in her eyes as she looked up at him.

"It is true," she sighed. "Satchel is a free elf. His master let him go."

The elf was by now inconsolable. He let out a sound not unlike the yelp of an injured dog.

"Principal Towne lets Satchel stay at Malkin School," Blossom explained. "But the binding magic on his kind is powerful." Blossom shook her head. "Satchel will be free the rest of his life." The tone of her voice made it sound like he had an inoperable disease.

This statement provoked another great croaking burst of grief.

"Y-you mean," Will began. He tried to choose his words carefully, as he wasn't sure Satchel could bear much more discussion about his condition. "You mean Satchel doesn't want to be free?"

"Perhaps young Mister needs to clean the wax from his ears," Blossom scolded. Satchel's emotional eruption had settled down to a mild whimper. Blossom motioned for Will and the other elf to follow her. As she guided Will through the tunnels she continued to talk.

"It's shameful for an elf to be set free," she said. "It's something we Yunwi Tsunsdi had never imagined until the white wizards came from across the ocean."

This last statement puzzled Will. "You mean Indian masters never set their elves free? Never?"

Blossom wrinkled her nose and gazed up at Will. "Yunwi Tsunsdi is not bound to _human_ masters," she said, as if explaining Gamp's Law to a rather dull first-year. Then with deep reverence she continued, "Yunwi Tsunsdi is bound to the land itself. We serves the land, and those what lives on it." Will struggled to understand what this might mean.

"If any witch or wizard is not happy with the way Yunwi Tsunsdi serves," she added, "then _they_ can leave."

Will had barely noticed that the tunnels now seemed more artificial than natural. The bare earth and rough-hewn wooden support beams had given way to proper walls of brick and plaster. They were now moving through actual rooms and stopped to open and close heavy wooden doors as they proceeded. The rooms were stacked high with boxes, crates, and barrels of every size. Iron brackets mounted lanterns along the walls that sprung to life as soon as they entered and extinguished as they left. Will put away his Shiny Thing, as the lantern light was quite sufficient to see by.

He also began to hear the sound of voices ahead.

"Human boy a-coming!" Blossom called. The voices suddenly ceased. Blossom opened the door in front of her, and the three strode into a vast, empty kitchen.

"Yunwi Tsunsdi is not always liking to be seen by humans," Satchel explained. "They prefers to be invisible."

Will looked around, halfway expecting to see floating dishpans or hear the hushed giggles of invisible elves spying on him. If any were there, however, they didn't give themselves away.

"Yonder staircase leads up to the Dining Hall," Blossom said, pointing. "Blossom thinks young Mister can find his way from here."

"Thanks," Will said. He checked his watch. It was nearly ten o'clock, which meant he was out past curfew.

_Wonderful_, he thought.

Will looked down at Blossom and Satchel. "Well, it's been nice to meet you," he said. "Goodbye." He then hurried up the stairs Blossom had indicated and, sure enough, came out near the back of the dimly lit Dining Hall. He headed directly to the huge double doors that led to the foyer. He broke into a sprint as he headed down the classroom wing that was the fastest way back to the Proudfeather dorm.

For a second, Will was blinded in a fog of silvery light. There was a sudden burst of cold that gave him the shivers and made him miss a step. He tried to regain his balance, but instead went crashing into a pedestal on which stood a bust of Liam Osserly, the wizard for whom Osserly Hall was named.

Will found himself spread-eagled on the floor. About half of Liam Osserly lay beside him, the rest had shattered into a dozen or more pieces and slid across the floor in every direction.

"Young man!" a high-pitched voice demanded. "What is your name?"

Will pulled himself to his feet and was face to face with Lady Alice, the Strongfoot house ghost. "Will Proctor, ma'am," he said sheepishly.

She looked him straight in the eye (she hovered two or three inches off the floor) and said, "What is the meaning of this? What are you doing out after curfew?"

Will opened his mouth to speak, yet once again he couldn't get the words to form in his mouth.


	9. You've Got to Feel It in Your Gut

Will apologized as profusely as he knew how beneath Lady Alice's cold stare. He helped as best he could with the overturned sculpture, but he knew he could never repair it. He only hoped someone could! Bowing and apologizing for about the fiftieth time, he ducked away and went straight to his dorm.

As he sat at breakfast the next morning, an eastern screech owl landed in front of him and deposited a letter from Mr. Corntassel.

"What's that?" Kate asked.

Will tore open the envelope and read the note inside. "Detention."

"I'm sorry," Kate said, "I thought you said 'Detention.'"

"That's what I said," Will sighed. Before Kate could ask, he started to explain. "Lady Alice caught me in Osserly Hall last night after curfew. I walked into her and, well, you know that bust of Liam Osserly that _used_ to be in the Charms hallway?" He hung his head. "I guess she told Mr. Corntassel."

"What were you doing in Osserly?" Kate asked, wide-eyed. It wasn't like Will to get in any kind of trouble.

Will started to explain, then stopped. He was beginning to get used to the subtle feeling that came over him whenever he started to mention Rick and his gang. He didn't see any point trying to fight it.

"Nothing," he shrugged.

It was Saturday. It was also the day of the next Quodpot game—Quickfang versus Strongfoot. This was the second outing for both teams, and everyone looked forward to an exciting game. Expectation was growing that Strongfoot might be the team to unseat Quickfang from their four-year streak of winning the Malkin Academy Quodpot Trophy. If they didn't peak too soon, some even whispered the thought, they might even win the inter-mural tournament in April.

That afternoon, Will sat in the stands surrounded by his friends and housemates. Phinehas and Felicia sat together and, Will couldn't help but notice, spent nearly as much time looking into each other's eyes as they did watching the game. Tom and Gus Burlington sat together with clipboards and a pair of Omnioculars, jotting down any information they thought would be helpful when Proudfeather went up against Quickfang in March.

Kate and Dana didn't have any strong opinions about the game, and since both teams were undefeated, they couldn't decide what outcome would benefit Proudfeather more. (Fairgarland was 0–2 for the season and were thus effectively out of consideration for the Trophy.) The two girls simply decided to cheer for any good plays made by either team.

Will found it hard to be excited about Quodpot, however. On the other side of the stadium Rick Lombard and Tony Segola watched the game together. To all appearances, they were just two friends enjoying a Quodpot game, joking around and drinking warm mugs of butterbeer. Will tried not to notice them.

The game didn't end until nearly dark, when Quickfang scored a lay-in against the outmanned Strongfoot defense and went ahead seven points to six. The last Strongfoot player drove toward the opposing cauldron and for a second seemed to be on the verge of outmaneuvering the three remaining Quickfangs. As the Quod exploded the Quickfang stands erupted in wild applause.

"Smith of Strongfoot is eliminated, and that's the game," the announcer said. "The final score is Quickfang seven, Strongfoot six. Thank you all for coming, everybody! The next game will be Strongfoot versus Fairgarland on March third."

Will barely touched his supper. He turned in early, slept late Sunday morning, and only went through the motions of homework Sunday afternoon to keep his mind off of other things.

Mr. Corntassel's note had said Will was to report to Mr. Slackbrow in front of the broom shed at 3:30 Monday afternoon. At the appointed time, Will discovered that the lean, greasy groundskeeper was already waiting for him.

"Will, is it?" Mr. Slackbrow asked. "I seen you 'round. I don't think you ever done detentions with me afore, though."

"No, sir," Will said. Actually, he had never done detentions with anyone before!

"Well, Mr. Corntassel said to be easy on you," the groundskeeper continued. He had a small empty sack in his free hand. He tossed a second one to Will as they started walking across the rolling hills toward the back of the campus.

"We gotta clear the lakeshore of bewitchments," he said. "Kids are out there all the time, playin' at hexin' each other, tryin' out charms and potions and whatnot. Afore long it builds up, you see? So we're gonna look for magical residue and clear it out. You got your wand?"

"Yes, sir."

It didn't take long to reach the edge of the mile-long lake on the far side of Malkin's campus. "I'll go right, you go left," Mr. Slackbrow said. Will furrowed his brow. "You _do_ know how to dowse, dontcha?"

"I…um…I didn't sign up for Divination."

Mr. Slackbrow sighed. "I declare, they give these kids witchin' rods and they don't even learn 'em how to use 'em proper!

"Now, pay attention," he said. He held his own wand loosely in his hand. He pointed it toward the trees nearest where the two of them were standing, waving it slowly and gently. In less than a minute, Mr. Slackbrow's wand began to twitch. Will could tell the groundskeeper hadn't moved it; he still held it as lightly as he could. The wand was moving on its own! The two of them followed the wand's movement as it led them toward a clump of tall grass by the water's edge.

"Looky there," Mr. Slackbrow said. He stooped down and picked up an empty glass vial, dull and gray from dirt on the outside and some sort of crystallized crud on the inside. He gave it a sniff and declared, "Love potion. I hope you don't go in for such foolishness!"

"No, sir!" Will said, blushing.

Mr. Slackbrow dropped the vial in his bag.

"Now, Ms. Spinner might learn you different," Mr. Slackbrow said, "but Ms. Spinner ain't here. To me, the trick to dowsing is to feel your own magic deep down. Here." He patted Will's stomach. "Once you got that feeling, hold on to it and let it run down your arm into your wand." He turned and walked away. After two or three paces, he turned back. Will was still standing where he had left him.

"We ain't got all day, boy!"

"Wait, how is this supposed to work?" Will asked. "Sympathetic magic or elemental harmonics or what?"

"How in tarnation should I know?" Mr. Slackbrow said. "You just got to feel it in your gut. Now hurry up!" He turned away again.

"But…"

"Your wand will know what to do," the groundskeeper said with a shrug. "Just make sure you're set in your mind to dowse for _magic_. If'n your not careful, you'll dowse for water instead—and seein' as we're beside a lake, you're liable to find some!"

"I-I'll try to remember," Will said.

Mr. Slackbrow gestured, and Will headed off around the lake to the left. He tried to imitate Mr. Slackbrow's technique. After a few attempts, he managed to find the right balance, holding his wand as lightly as possible without letting it fall from his grasp.

At first he wasn't sure how to "feel his own magic" deep inside. He wasn't sure he had ever felt magic the way Mr. Slackbrow described. For him, magic had always been more about theories and formulas. He wondered if that might be why his spells tended to fizzle even if he was sure he had mastered the underlying theory and pronounced the incantation perfectly.

He slowly wandered around the lake, gently pointing his wand toward the encircling trees, trying to let the wand itself guide him in the right direction.

The first time Will felt his wand move he dropped it as if it were a snake. He grabbed it in an instant, however, and tried again to hold it _just__ so_.

_I__'__m __dowsing __for __magic_, he thought to himself. He tried to feel the magic inside him welling up and gently flowing down his arm and into his wand. It might have merely been his imagination, but it did seem like something was happening.

His wand twitched again. This time, Will held on to it. He let the wand guide his arm. It seemed to want to rise high in the air. Will let his eyes follow the direction it was pointing, and saw a bit of red dangling from a tree branch.

It was a bit of exploded Quod. As Will pulled it down, he could even detect the smell of burnt leather. It must have drifted there from yesterday's game.

Will smiled. He stuffed the scrap of leather in the bag Mr. Slackbrow had given him and proceeded along the lakeshore.

By the time he met up with Mr. Slackbrow on the back side of the lake, Will had managed to find a tattered felt bag, a scrap of parchment on which someone had practiced writing rune charms, and a couple of wrappers from Adam's Weasley's Wizard Wheezes candies. More than once Will was sure his wand detected something, but he couldn't find it.

"Not bad," the groundskeeper opined as he poked around in Will's bag. "I bet you missed about three times as much as you found," he said. "But not bad."

Will nodded.

"Now git afore you're late fer supper. You seem like a good kid, Will. Let's not do this agin."

Will set off toward Osserly Hall at a jog. His stomach was tight. It wasn't sore, as it had been after an evening of Cruciatus Curses. But it was queasy nonetheless. He judged his first-ever detention could have been much worse. To tell the truth, it went better than his last couple of weeks of Transfiguration class.

* * *

><p>In the Dining Hall, a couple of Fairgarland girls had set up shop at the end of their table nearest the door. Dana Good had a scroll and several quills in front of her. An older girl guarded a metal cashbox. Above their heads hovered a sign that read, "Secret-Keepers."<p>

"What's going on?" Will asked. He noticed that Dana was wearing a red and pink button on her shirt. It featured an animated cupid, who winked at Will as he approached. The tiny figure had a bow in his hands and tape across his mouth.

"We're raising money for charity," Dana smiled. "For two Daricks, we'll personally deliver an anonymous Valentine's greeting to anyone you want. All the money goes to research to find a cure for werewolfism."

Will had forgotten that the next day was the fourteenth of February.

"Anonymous, you say?"

"Sure! We thought kids would like the idea of getting a Valentine from a 'secret admirer.' Especially younger kids who might be too shy to admit they liked somebody. Of course, you can always tell them later if you want to. Mary here came up with the idea." She indicated the older dark-haired girl beside her.

"We promise complete confidentiality," Mary said. She was wearing the same button Dana was with the taped-mouth cupid on it. "Our lips are sealed."

"Next best thing to a Fidelius Charm," Dana laughed.

"A what?"

"A Fidelius Charm," Mary explained, pointing to the "Secret-Keepers" sign hovering above their heads. "It's pretty advanced magic, but it's supposed to be a way of hiding a secret inside a human being. Then that person is the only one that can ever reveal the secret. That's why they call him the Secret-Keeper. Cute, huh?"

"Yeah," Dana said. "So we're like the Secret-Keepers for whoever's got a crush on—"

But Will was no longer listening. In fact, he had suddenly bolted toward the door, his face pale with fright.

He ran to the library, bounded up the front steps three at a time, and within five minutes was sitting in a secluded corner of the reference section thumbing frantically through volume three of _The__Spell-Caster__'__s__Desk__Reference_. At last he lit upon the section he wanted:

_**THE FIDELIUS CHARM**_

_**The Fidelius Charm is an incredibly complex spell. Its purpose is to magically conceal a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside this person, known as the Secret-Keeper, and is thereafter impossible to discover by any means, magical or mundane. Only the Secret-Keeper himself has the power to divulge it. **_

_** Will felt his heart pounding in his chest. **_

_**All persons to whom the Secret-Keeper reveals this hidden information come under the scope of the Charm. Although they know the secret, they cannot divulge it—not even under threat, torture, truth serum, or the Imperius Curse.**_

In a flash Will knew he had found the answer. He was under the influence of a Fidelius Charm! That had to be it. He thought back to the night he first encountered the Dread Arcanum. Rick was obviously the leader, but he had Tony tell him about their Dark Arts meetings—and it was only then that he could see the secret entrance to their underground "classroom." Tony must have been the Secret-Keeper.

Will realized his hands were trembling. He continued to read. There had to be some way to break the charm! Upon the death of the Secret-Keeper, the article said, everyone to whom he or she had revealed the secret became Secret-Keepers themselves.

_Great!_ Will thought, shaking his head. _All __I __have __to __do __is __kill __my__ brother__'__s __roommate!_

He kept reading. There had to be another way, but he wasn't seeing it. The only flicker of hope Will could find had to do with possible limitations or weaknesses inherent in the nature of the charm itself. _The __Spell-Caster__'__s __Desk __Reference_ didn't go into any details, however—it was only a quick reference guide after all, not a full-scale magical encyclopedia. But it did provide Will with one thing he knew how to use: a bibliography.

* * *

><p>Will decided to skip Astronomy Tuesday morning so he could start researching the Fidelius Charm. Other than the time in first year when he was too scared to go to Transfiguration, he had never blown off class before in his life. In fact, he hated missing school even when he was sick. Will felt like a burglar planning a heist, but he didn't see any other choice. He purposely waited behind at breakfast until all his classmates had excused themselves, then hung around in front of the library until four or five minutes after the first bell.<p>

If an adult questioned him, he would simply say he was running late and pretend to head upstairs to the Observatory, where Mr. Ash's Astronomy class met. Once he was sure Ms. Lector, the head librarian, had taken all the first-years into the conference room for their General Magic class, he cracked open the great front door of the library. None of the other library staff was in sight.

The reference section was around the corner from the circulation desk, so with any luck, Will could snatch as many books as he needed without a librarian getting in the way. His first goal was to take another look at _The __Spell-Caster__'__s__ Desk __Reference_. Now that he had his notebook and quills with him, he was going to write down everything he could about the Fidelius Charm. Then he would try to look up as many of the cited sources as he could. That might be tricky, however, as these sources would likely be scattered all over the library. He realized he would eventually have to come back later, when he wouldn't have to worry about people seeing him.

Will found the book he wanted, the same book he read the night before, and took it with him into the boy's bathroom. In the stall furthest from the door, he sat down, pulled out his notebook, and started taking notes.

The bell marking the end of first period rang just as Will finished the article. He ducked out of the bathroom, slipped his book on the nearest re-shelf cart, and lingered for a minute or two until all the other third-year Proudfeathers were likely to have left the library. His next class was Muggle Studies, and he decided he might as well go. He had Study Hall at one o'clock, so if he skipped lunch he could have two solid hours to chase down all the references he needed to find.

The only excitement in Mr. Cryer's Muggle Studies class was when one of the Fairgarland "Secret-Keepers" showed up to deliver a card and a small box of chocolates to Felicia Hyatt. She traded knowing glances with Phinehas Buzzard, but neither of them volunteered any comments about the Valentine or who it might have been from.

No one else received Valentines from secret admirers during Will's Runes or Herbology classes, but by lunchtime the entire Dining Hall had become a sea of red and pink. It looked as if the Fairgarlands had raised quite a bit of money for their charity project, as dozens of boys and girls showed off the Valentines they had received that morning.

Tom, it seemed, had gotten several Valentines—which didn't really surprise Will. His brother sat next to Tony Segola, and the two of them were joking about who they were likely to be from. Will breezed past them, trying not to make eye contact.

It didn't work. Tom called him over.

"The day's not over yet, Will," Tom smiled. "Think you'll get any Valentines this afternoon?"

"I dunno," Will shrugged. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Tony's cheerful expression. No one would have ever guessed he was involved with the Dark Arts. "I can be patient," he said. And training his eyes directly on Tony he added, "After all, there's only so much a Secret-Keeper can do."

For an instant Tony glowered, but Will knew he wouldn't say or do anything that made Tom suspicious. He found his own seat across from Kate and Felicia and began to heap his plate with cold cuts and cheeses.

"Will, may I have a word with you?" Mr. Corntassel had come up behind him.

"Yes, sir?"

"I'd like to see you in my office during last period, if you don't mind." Will could tell from the elderly teacher's expression this was not merely a request.

"Yes, sir," Will gulped.


	10. Lessons Learned

Will had a pretty good idea why his head of house wanted to seem him. His suspicions were confirmed as soon as he took his seat on the sofa in Mr. Corntassel's office.

"Mr. Ash tells me you weren't in class this morning. Were you sick?"

"No, sir. I…uh…overslept."

Mr. Corntassel leaned forward across his desk. "You seemed reasonably awake at breakfast this morning," he said.

Will's heart skipped a beat. He had never skipped class before, and he had never lied to a teacher, either. In an instant he realized he must not be very good at it.

"W-what I meant to say was…erm…I didn't sleep well last night. So…" (he fidgeted in his seat) "…I thought I'd go back to the dorm, maybe take a quick nap so my other classes wouldn't suffer. I know it was wrong, sir, but…"

Mr. Corntassel frowned. "Will, what has gotten into you? I've never had a minute of trouble out of you before, but since Christmas you've come banging on my door in the middle of the night for no apparent reason, Mr. Malleus says you've been dueling, Lady Alice caught you lurking in Osserly Hall after curfew—where you destroyed a very old and precious school heirloom—and now you're ditching classes."

Will hung his head.

"Is there something going on that I should know about?"

Will had to struggle to keep from laughing out loud. _You __mean __like __a __Dark __Arts __gang __meeting __under __everyone__'__s __noses?_ he thought.

"I see that smirk, Mr. Proctor," Mr. Corntassel said curtly. Then immediately he went back to his normal, genial self. "Why won't you tell me what's going on? Is there something the matter at home?"

"No, sir."

"Are you having problems with any of your fellow students?"

Will opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly had nothing to say. He swallowed and mumbled, "No, sir."

There was a long pause.

"Does this have anything to do with what happened between you and Kate Burroughs last month?"

"Criminy! _You_ know about that, too?" Will blurted.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Corntassel said, "I didn't mean to embarrass you. But I don't like what I've been seeing from you lately. Your behavior has been…troubling. Your class work is starting to slip. Doc—Mr. Rainey—told me you got a "B" on his last History of Magic exam. That's one of your best subjects, Will!

"You're a good student, but you shouldn't expect any special treatment on that account. Am I clear?"

Will wanted to tell his teacher exactly what was going on, but couldn't—quite literally _couldn__'__t_—find the words. He sat in silence for several minutes before simply answering, "Yes, sir."

Will trudged across the lawn to the library. At last he could start digging into Fidelius Charms, and he knew exactly where he wanted to start. _The__ Spell-Caster__'__s __Desk __Reference_ had cited an article in the _Journal__ of __Charms__ and __Their __Applications_ that looked like just what he needed. He headed up to the second floor, to the periodicals section, and quickly tracked down the article he wanted: "The Fidelius Charm: Possibilities and Pitfalls."

He read and re-read the article, taking copious notes. One of the features of the enchanted notebook he got for Christmas was that he could re-arrange any information written in it. With a tap of his wand, he put his notes from that morning on the left-hand pages for easy comparison with his notes from this new article on the right. The descriptions in both articles of how the charm worked and the ceremonial magic to perform it echoed each other nearly word for word, but this article went into much greater detail about the limitations of the Fidelius Charm and how to work around them.

For example, if someone knew the secret beforehand, the Fidelius couldn't keep them from sharing it. Will wondered if that was why Kevin Guinfort had to be taken out of the picture.

Furthermore, the Secret-Keeper had to be careful not to reveal the secret accidentally. This article told a story about a Secret-Keeper who once Apparated to her secret hiding place, not realizing that an enemy had grabbed her at the last second. The enemy Apparated with her, and as soon as he was brought within the scope of the Fidelius, it was the same as if she had revealed the secret on purpose. Somehow Will couldn't imagine Tony letting anything slip by accident, and he was sure the sixteen-year-old didn't yet know how to Apparate.

Of course, the one sure way of beating the Fidelius Charm was for the Secret-Keeper to die—but even then the secret remained intact. It was just that now everyone who had ever been told the secret became Secret-Keepers themselves, which multiplied the chances that someone might let something slip, or even betray the secret on purpose.

The power of the charm would only be definitively broken when the Secret-Owner, the person who actually cast the spell, died. Will figured the Secret-Owner would have to be Rick. He was the one the secret was mainly about. He had to have been the one who had cast the Fidelius Charm.

Will rested his head in his hands. That morning he had been certain he could find a way around the Fidelius Charm. Now he wasn't so sure. Unless he was prepared to commit murder, Rick's terrible secret would be safe for years.

Will closed the book and left it on the table. He looked at his watch. Once again he had accidentally skipped supper, but he didn't have much appetite anyway. He plodded downstairs to the main floor of the library and out onto the porch. By the light of the waning moon Will wandered into the night. He didn't want to go back to his dorm. He didn't feel like socializing, and he certainly didn't want to run into Tony Segola again. He knew there was some sort of Valentine's dance in the Dining Hall, but that was mostly for the older kids, and he was pretty sure it was couples-only anyway.

Instead, he turned in the other direction and headed toward Derwent Hall. Maybe the Student Commons would be empty. He could buy himself a snack and maybe sit and think for a while.

There were no students in the Commons, for which Will was grateful. Only a large gray owl sat on a perch behind the counter of the snack bar.

"I'd like a cauldron cake, please," Will said. The owl screeched and turned its head in the direction of the price list on the back wall. Will pulled a Darick out of his pocket and laid it on the counter. The owl popped down, picked up the silver coin, and deposited it in a large black box.

"What about my change?" Will said. The owl merely stared at him.

Will sighed, selected his snack from the display case, and found a comfortable seat on the far wall. There were numerous gaming tables in the center of the room and several sofas and chairs around the edges. Someone had left a copy of that morning's _Wizarding__ World __Today_ on the coffee table in front of him, but he didn't feel like reading it.

The wizard radio was tuned to a popular country station. The plaintive ballad about a wizard whose three-headed dog ran away was a perfect match for Will's despondent mood. His grades were suffering. He was cutting class. He had even been given detention. To top it off, his head of house wanted him to straighten up or face the consequences. And as if that weren't bad enough, the snack-owl owed him three Flitters!

He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and pondered everything that had happened that day.

"Hey, there!"

Will opened his eyes with a start. Kate Burroughs had just entered the Student Commons.

"Oh, hi," Will said. "What are you doing here?"

"Sweet tooth," Kate said. She turned to the snack-owl and asked for a chocolate frog and a Fizzbang Soda.

"Be sure to give it the correct change," Will said.

"I will," Kate said. "You want a Fizzbang? My treat?"

"Sure."

Kate paid the owl and strolled over to where Will was sitting. She studied her two bottles of soda.

"I've got mango chipotle and cranberry salad."

Cranberry salad was Will's favorite, but he was polite enough to let Kate choose. He was secretly pleased when she picked the mango chipotle.

"Everybody missed you in Charms," she said.

"I had a meeting with Mr. Corntassel."

"He pulled you out of class for a meeting?"

"Isn't that what I just said?" Will snapped.

Kate decided not to press the issue. Instead, she sat quietly beside her friend, sipping her soda. Will stared out into space.

"I saw you with Mr. Slackbrow yesterday. How did it go?"

"Not too bad, I guess. I'm not really what you'd call an expert on detentions."

"Well, let's keep it that way, all right?"

There was another long silence. Kate fiddled with the wrapper on her chocolate frog and pulled out the trading card inside. "Do you still collect these?" she asked, offering the card to Will.

"Not really," Will said. He studied the picture of the bearded wizard holding a ruby-encrusted sword.

On the radio, Wayne Gidgen began to croon the first verse of "Love'll Boil and Bubble." Will and Kate both turned pink. In perfect synchronization, they both scooted away from each other on the sofa. When Kate realized what just happened she started to giggle. This tickled Will, and before long both of them were laughing out loud.

"Will," Kate said at last. Her voice was serious. "What's going on? You haven't been yourself lately. You've been acting like something is wrong."

Will felt his whole body grow tense. He knew better than to try to tell Kate the truth.

"It's just…something." Even that much required great effort—so much so that saying it left him lightheaded.

"'Something'? That's the best you can say?"

"It's all I _can_ say," Will said. "I'm sorry." He wished he could tell her. He wished he could tell anyone!

"I told you when the goblins had my dad arrested," Kate said. "You were there for me. I'd like to be there for you."

"This isn't the same."

"No, I guess not," Kate said sharply. "I'm sure being afraid your dad was going to get sent off to some goblin prison couldn't possibly compare to whatever is going on in _your_ life!"

"That's not what I meant!" Will shouted. As soon as the words left his mouth he realized he sounded a lot angrier than he had intended.

"Well, then, explain it to me!" Kate said. "I'm not some dainty little flower, you know. I'm pretty sure I can handle it."

Will opened and closed his mouth two or three times. No matter how hard he tried, no words came out. He worked up a sweat even trying to divulge the secret of the Dread Arcanum.

"Kate, just leave it alone, okay? I appreciate what you're trying to do. It's just…"

"Fine!" Kate said. She pulled on her cloak, slung her bag over her shoulder, and headed for the door. The owl at the snack counter screeched and flapped its wings.

"I'll see you in class tomorrow—if you decide to show up!"

* * *

><p>Will did indeed "decide" to show up for all his classes the rest of the week. There didn't seem to be any point in skipping, now that he was fairly sure there was no way around the effects of the Fidelius Charm. He dug into his class work, partly to make up for lost time and partly to keep his mind occupied. He intended to keep his eyes and ears open for any sign of Dark magic, but he had resigned himself to the fact that there was nothing he could do even if he learned anything. Thankfully, it seemed Rick and his gang were content to learn and practice the Dark Arts in secret—at least for now.<p>

Third-year Proudfeathers had Transfiguration at two o'clock on Thursdays with the Quickfangs. Vice Principal Goates had been trying for over a month to drill her students on the principals of animating inanimate objects, but with little to show for it. Today she brought a small clay statue of a pigeon into the classroom and had all the students line up to take a turn attempting to bring it to life.

April Pucey was probably the best at Transfiguration among the Proudfeathers and DeAndre King among the Quickfangs, but not even they had had much luck with any of the exercises Ms. Goates had been giving them. At best they could make the various inanimate objects Ms. Goates provided shake or twitch. The Vice Principal was very clear that this was insufficient for a passing grade.

Will had grasped the theory Ms. Goates had labored to teach them from the first day, of course. It wasn't that complicated once you understood Switch's Third Corollary. As much as he had attempted to explain this to his housemates, none of them had really caught on.

After Marc Lantier and Megan O'Leary tried unsuccessfully to get any kind of movement out of the pigeon, Ms. Goates called, "Mr. Proctor." He groaned inside. Another five minutes and the bell would have rung and he would have been spared the agony of once again having his spell go up in smoke in front of his classmates.

He stood in front of the statue. He gripped his wand in his sweaty hand and tentatively extended his arm. He took two deep breaths.

In her usual cold, businesslike tone, Ms. Goates said, "Some time today, Mr. Proctor." Will heard the tittering of some of his fellow students.

He took another breath and tried to quiet his nerves. In his mind, he ran through the transfigurational equations one more time. He was certain he grasped the theory of what was supposed to happen.

"Here goes," he whispered to himself.

Then a thought came to him, subtle and unbidden. He remembered what Mr. Slackbrow had said Monday afternoon.

_You __just __got __to __feel __it __in __your __gut._

"We're waiting, Mr. Proctor," Ms. Goates said.

"Yes, ma'am," Will said. He took another deep breath. Now, however, rather than running through the equations in his head, he tried to empty his mind and concentrate on a spot somewhere just beneath his ribcage.

He already knew the equations, he realized. He knew what needed to happen. What he lacked was the power to make it happen.

Something warm and tingly seemed to radiate from the center of his body, down his arm, and into his wand.

"_Tendo __vigorem_," he said in a whisper.

The pigeon statue began to rattle on Ms. Goates's desk. With a pop, first one and then the other of its wings melted and immediately re-formed—no longer as cold, hard clay but as feathers and flesh and blood. The statue with the flapping, feathered wings was about the strangest thing Will had ever seen, but class cheered that he had managed even that much of a transfiguration. The bell rang.

"A fair start, Mr. Proctor," Ms. Goates said stiffly. "If you can bring me a whole living bird on Monday, I'll give you a passing grade on the assignment—and award five points to Proudfeather house."

Will thanked his teacher and collected the semi-animate pigeon on his way out the door. He was amazed at his feat of magic and more than a little pleased with the praise it earned from his friends. He noticed out of the corner of his eye, however, that Kate merely hung her head. Apparently she was still upset about Tuesday night.


	11. Fire and Ice

Saturday after breakfast, Will gathered on the lawn with a hundred of his fellow students. The air was crisp and the sky was gray and blustery.

Beyond the iron gates of the Malkin Academy campus, down the hill and across an old, wooden covered bridge, lay the tiny village of Malkinville. For nearly three hundred years, the village and the school had grown up alongside one another. Both parties worked at being good neighbors to the other.

Technically speaking, students were always welcome in the village. Witches and wizards aged seventeen and older were considered adults under wizarding law, and could come and go from campus as they pleased. Furthermore, on most Sundays Mr. Malleus escorted a couple dozen students to the village church for services, and Mr. Ash often invited students to his house in the village on Friday nights for a traditional Shabbat dinner with his family.

If every student in the school showed up at once, however, Malkinville's population would instantly more than triple. Though the village shopkeepers would have loved to collect the children's Flitters, Daricks, and Scepters, the potential for utter chaos tended to make most villagers reluctant to be quite so welcoming. Therefore, by longstanding agreement, supervised day trips to Malkinville were limited to one weekend per month, and only for students in the third year and higher.

As it turned out, the Saturday after Valentine's was scheduled for a Malkinville day trip. By mid-morning Will, along with over a third of the student body, huddled in the cold waiting for the appointed time to hike down to the village. The designated chaperones were Ms. Spinner, the Divination teacher, and Mr. Gaunt, who taught Arithmancy.

The two couldn't have been more different. Ms. Spinner was motherly and jovial. She decorated her classroom with lace doilies, vases of potpourri, and photos of her many grandchildren. Mr. Gaunt, by contrast, was a confirmed bachelor and a strict disciplinarian. He was also a bit wall-eyed, so even when he looked straight at you through his thick Coke-bottle glasses, he gave the impression that he was actually gazing at someone or something just over your shoulder.

The chaperones checked the students gathered against their list of those on academic probation or otherwise prohibited from visiting the village. Then they headed off.

When they reached the edge of town, Ms. Spinner announced, "There's a storm coming this afternoon, children, so we'll have to leave a half hour early." Everyone groaned, but they knew that Ms. Spinner was usually right about her weather predictions. "We'll all meet in front of the Powler Inn at 3:30, and you can find either Mr. Gaunt or me there all day long. Now, go have fun!"

Will headed into the village in the middle of the throng of students. There were two shops he especially wanted to visit. He thought Nestor's Novelties might have a good present for his brother's birthday, which was coming up in early March. And he wondered if a box of chocolate frogs from Jolly's Candy Shoppe might make a nice peace offering for Kate.

It took Will nearly forty-five minutes to decide between the anti-gravity hat and the trick wand for Tom. He finally opted for the trick wand—a Weasley's product, he noted—even though it cost a little more. With his purchase bagged up, he headed down the street to Jolly's.

Jolly's Candy Shoppe was a life-size gingerbread house on the edge of the village. It was a favorite of most Malkin students, as it stocked every kind of candy imaginable. Will had to twist through a maze of teenagers just to get in the door.

"No free samples!" the owner growled from behind the counter. "Jolly" would not have been Will's first choice for a word to describe the owner of Jolly's Candy Shoppe. The few times Will had seen the man before, he had always been in a foul mood. He was a small, hunchbacked man with an unusually large nose and an ugly brown wart the size of a garbanzo bean on his chin. One of his eyes was brown and the other was blue, and students liked passing around the rumor that one of them—which one depended on who was telling the story—was artificial and possibly had magical powers.

"Never should have taken up this crummy business," he muttered to a Malkinvillian witch—the only other adult in the building. "But Ma wanted the shop to stay in the family." He gestured over his shoulder to a photograph of a witch who was, if anything, even more ugly than Mr. Jolly. This photographic witch smiled and licked her lips. If Will didn't know better, he would say she was actually gazing down at the dozens of students crowded around the bins of sweets.

"Your mother started the business, didn't she?" the witch asked.

"Yeah. She really loved children, that's for sure—HEY!" he suddenly bellowed. "Don't mix candy in the bags! The gumdrops are three Flitters a pound and the toffees are five!" The offending student hurriedly picked the toffees from her bag and placed them in a separate one.

Will weaved through the store toward the boxes of chocolate frogs. When at last he reached them, he grabbed a box and edged along the counter to the cash register. He set his box on the counter and reached into his pocket for his money.

Mr. Jolly eyed him suspiciously, but rang up the sale without comment. Will shuddered slightly and made his way back to the door.

Will ran into Adam and Marc as he entered the Powler Inn looking for something for lunch. They each ordered the restaurant's famous "dragon burgers," which weren't made with dragon meat at all but rather ordinary ground beef seasoned with hot spices. They were very tasty, but Adam's burger didn't agree with him. He spent the next half hour burping up little balls of fire.

After lunch Will excused himself from his roommates, who wanted to stock up on dungbombs and Decoy Detonators at Nestor's Novelties, and strolled over to Malkinville's general store. In addition to the wide variety of foodstuffs, potion supplies, and magical equipment, the general store also had a nice selection of used books that Will enjoyed checking every month in case something interesting turned up.

Kate was there, too, looking over the store's selection of broom care products. Will took a deep breath and called her name. She looked at him, but Will couldn't discern her mood.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry about the other night. I guess I sounded like what you went through last fall wasn't that big a deal. But it was." He reached in his bag for the box of chocolate frogs and handed them to her.

"These are for you."

Kate examined the box.

"So, does this mean you're ready to tell me what's going on?"

Will frowned.

"Then maybe you don't get it after all," Kate said. "I'm trying to be your friend, like you and Dana and Felicia were to me. But you won't let me! It's like you don't even want my help!"

"It's not that," Will said. But he knew he wouldn't be able to explain further. He just hung his head and sighed.

Will watched Kate walk to the counter, buy the set of twig clippers she had found, and leave the store.

He thought about what he should do next when he heard the sounds of a loud commotion outside. He ran to the door.

The scene was complete pandemonium. Witches and wizards—both townspeople and students—were rushing down the street, concerned looks on their faces. Someone was ringing the bell at the village church, and others were shouting directions."

"There's a fire at Jolly's!" one man said. "Get over there if you can help!"

"Is anyone hurt?" a young witch asked, her young daughter clinging to her cloak.

"I don't know!"

"Call a healer! Where's Edna Choake?"

Mr. Gaunt was in the middle of the chaos, waving his arms.

"Seventh-years, get to Jolly's and start conjuring water!" he shouted. "All other students, stay here with me!"

Will looked down the street in the direction of the candy shop. Clouds of black smoke billowed from its windows, filling the narrow street with the smell of burnt gingerbread. Now and then flashed a tongue of orange flame. Two or three townspeople were already conjuring jets of water from their wands. Jolly's Candy Shoppe was burning down!

Then Will noticed the trickle of students making its way up the street. Their faces and clothes were blackened with ash, and many of them were coughing or rubbing their eyes on their sleeves or the hems of their cloaks.

As more adult wizards converged on the candy shop, Mr. Jolly turned to one of the last students fleeing his burning building.

"You!" he thundered. "You did this! You and your friend! I saw you!"

The hunchbacked shopkeeper had grabbed a teenager by the collar and nearly tackled him to the ground. Before anyone could stop him he jabbed his wand in the boy's face. There was a flash of light, and the boy began to wretch and puke slugs onto the cobblestones.

Only then did Will realize he knew the sooty-faced boy. It was his roommate, Marc Lantier.

"Hold on! Hold on!" Mr. Gaunt shouted.

He pulled Mr. Jolly off of Marc and pushed him away. The two wizards faced each other, wands drawn, for several tense seconds. Each glared into the eyes of the other. Marc looked from one of them to the other, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, as he continued to gag on the constant stream of slugs erupting from his mouth.

Suddenly Ms. Spinner appeared in the crowd and pulled Marc to herself.

"I'll take care of this," Mr. Gaunt said, glaring at Mr. Jolly. "There's no need for violence."

"He burned down my shop!" Mr. Jolly shouted.

"I didn't do anything!" Marc protested between gags. Ms. Spinner began to work the counter-jinx on him.

"I assure you, Mr. Jolly, he will be punished."

"But it wasn't me!"

"What about my shop?"

"Did that boy really burn down Jolly's?" a Malkinvillian wizard said.

"He says he didn't do it," Tom Proctor said, emerging from the huddle of ash-covered students. "He shouldn't be punished without some kind of investigation." The students in the crowd all rumbled their agreement.

"Mr. Jolly saw him!" a different townswizard said. "Are you saying he's a liar?" The adults in the crowd had started murmuring. Will was suddenly aware of angry faces all around him—both students and townspeople. He realized his hand had slipped unconsciously to the grip of his wand. He was not the only one.

It had started to rain. Will glanced in the direction of Jolly's Candy Shoppe. It seemed the fire had been put out, but there was no telling how much damage had been done inside the building.

"Now everybody calm down!" Mr. Gaunt shouted. "The boy is going back to campus with me. I assure you, there will be a full investigation. If he is found guilty, he will be expelled—and subject to criminal penalties as well."

The grumbling slowly subsided. Marc looked like someone had kicked him in the stomach. He kept mouthing, "But I didn't do anything."

"Students," Mr. Gaunt said, "it's nearly 3:30 anyway, so I suggest we all head back to campus."

Everyone began pulling up their hoods or opening their umbrellas as the cold rain began to beat down even harder. Will stood stunned as the crowd slowly began to disperse. He felt the hard stares of the townspeople—fear and frustration seemed to make them distrustful of any Malkin student.

A couple of students brushed past him, quietly chuckling.

Greg Mallary and Rick Lombard marched on. Rick turned back toward Will and winked.

* * *

><p>The rain continued all afternoon. As day turned into night the rain began to freeze. It covered the Malkin Academy campus in gray, icy slush.<p>

Mr. Jolly met with Principal Towne and Mr. Corntassel in the principal's office for over an hour. Then Mr. Corntassel appeared in the Proudfeather common room to fetch Marc and Adam—Mr. Jolly had said a boy matching Adam's description was also to blame, he explained. Will, Phinehas, and nearly every other Proudfeather waited for their housemates to return.

By nightfall the campus was coated in a thick blanket of ice. A couple of house captains took it upon themselves to clear the walkways around the dormitory with warming and drying charms so everyone could get safely to supper.

Marc and Adam finally appeared in the Dining Hall while many students were filling their plates with seconds. Will ran to greet them. As they took their seats at the center of the long house table their fellow Proudfeathers gathered around them to find out what had happened.

"Jolly's nuts!" Adam protested. "He says he saw Marc and me fooling around in his back room."

"…and when he tried to kick us out, supposedly Adam cast a fire charm," Marc added.

"But it wasn't us!" Adam said. "We were still trying to decide what flavors of Tribble's Truffles to buy."

"We nearly got stampeded when somebody hollered, 'Fire,'" Marc said.

"Principal Towne believed you though, right?" Will asked hopefully.

Adam scowled. "He says there's another student who saw us, too, but he won't say who it was."

The Proudfeathers erupted in shouts of disbelief and injured pride.

"What kind of rat would tell a lie like that?" Phinehas shouted, pounding the table with his fist.

"Yeah!" agreed Tony Segola. "If somebody's going to make that kind of accusation, let him come forward! They have a right to know!"

Will glared at Tony. _Is __that __the __idea?_ he thought. _Get __us __angry __and __suspicious __of __each __other?_He shook his head in disgust.

"Tony's right," said Alice Boykin, a sixth-year house captain. "Adam and Marc have a right to know who is accusing them." Everyone agreed, and some cast suspicious glances at their fellow students at the other three house tables.

This didn't sound good at all to Will. Greg and Rick were responsible for the fire at Jolly's; the way they winked at him on the way back to campus might as well have been a confession. Will remembered the many hair and fingernail samples in the Dread Arcanum's secret classroom. If they had brewed a batch of Polyjuice Potion, they would have had their pick of students to impersonate while committing the crime.

Will suddenly realized that Principal Towne was calling for everyone's attention. It took a few agitated minutes for the room to settle down; the Proudfeathers were still murmuring excitedly about everything Adam and Marc had told them.

"As you no doubt know," the wizened principal began, "there was a fire this afternoon at Jolly's Candy Shoppe in the village. An accusation has been made that two Malkin Academy students were responsible."

Murmurs once again arose, mainly but not entirely from the Proudfeather house table.

"I have performed the _Prior __Incantato_ spell on the wands of the students in question and have obtained a negative result. Our chief of security," he nodded to Mr. Malleus, "the students' head of house, and I are satisfied that these boys are innocent."

There was another outbreak of hushed conversation.

"Even so—" Principal Towne attempted, not terribly successfully, to call the room to order. "Even so," he continued, "Mr. Jolly seems quite convinced of what he saw, and at least one other person confirms his story."

Gus Burlington let loose a colorful and extremely rude expression of disbelief. Dozens of students at all four tables turned to their neighbors and shared similar opinions.

"It's just his word against theirs," an older Fairgarland boy shouted. "Where's their proof?"

"We've taken the situation in hand, Mr. Corliss," said Mr. Malleus, rising from his seat to join Principal Towne. "Mr. Towne already said we believe the boys. Unless Jolly can produce any evidence, the matter is settled."

This calmed the crowd somewhat.

"Mr. Jolly's shop was fully insured, so he'll be able to rebuild immediately," Mr. Towne said. "But I'm afraid you should know," the principal hesitated before proceeding, "it may take time to smooth things over with some of the villagers. In the coming weeks I'll be meeting with Vice Principal Goates and the four heads of houses to decide whether it would be wise to cancel the Malkinville day trip scheduled for March seventeenth."

This announcement provoked the loudest uproar of the night.

"Not fair!" a Quickfang girl yelled.

"You can't punish the whole school!"

"…letting them win…"

"…make us all out to be criminals!"

At last, Principal Towne raised his wand and shot loud silver fireworks toward the ceiling. This eventually settled everyone down.

A lone student, Rick Lombard, had risen to his feet.

"Principal Towne," he said. It seemed Will was the only one who noticed his tone of unctuous flattery, "I'm sure you know best. You've always been more than fair with us students, and we know you have our safety in mind. But if I may say so, sir, I hope it doesn't come to that—and I believe I speak for all my fellow Quickfangs."

The Quickfangs all wrapped on their table in assent. Students from the other houses also expressed their approval. Will sat back in his seat, unwilling to lend his voice to _anything_ Rick had to say.

"I assure you, Rick, that I hope that measure is unnecessary. If I could count on every student being as conscientious as yourself, I doubt there would be any problems. I only mention this possibility so as to prepare you for the worst. Now, it's getting late. I suggest you all return to your dormitories—" there was another swell of protest "—and get ready for tomorrow's classes."

The Proudfeathers fumed all the way back to their common room. When they got there, almost all of them who were third-year or older gathered around the fire.

"They can't take away our Malkinville trips!" Phinehas raged.

"We're not the ones to blame," Kate added.

"He's got a point," Will said. All eyes were suddenly upon him, and he felt his cheeks turn pink. Four dozen voices rose against him. Tom raised his hands and tried to calm the room, shouting, "Let him talk! Let him talk!" Enough people respected Tom that they were willing to let his younger brother have his say.

"You saw how everybody was acting in the Dining Hall," he said, almost whispering. "Well, what if the villagers are just as mad as we are? Not just Jolly, but anybody he might have talked to, anybody who's only heard his side of the story. It—it might not be safe for anybody if people don't cool off a little."

"They can't take away our day trips!" Adam protested. "They're the only freedom we have!" Everyone agreed.

"Then let's make sure they don't," Tom said. "Let's make sure we all keep our noses clean for the next four weeks. Let them see we're not planning to make trouble."

"But what if the villagers want to make trouble?" Alice Boykin asked.

"They better not!" said Sonny Averitt, one of Tom's other roommates. Many across the room echoed this sentiment.

"Listen!" Tom shouted. "Listen, it's not up to us what the villagers do. We've got to decide that _we__'__re_ not going to start anything. Got it?" This somewhat settled the crowd.

"But if they decide to start something," Tom continued through gritted teeth, "then I for one intend to finish it." Several students smiled and nodded in agreement. A couple of them even clapped.

"That's fine for you, Tom," Tony Segola said. "You're pretty good with a wand and you know a fair bit of magic. But what about the younger kids? How are they supposed to 'finish it' if some shopkeeper gets it in his mind to hex them? You saw what happened to Adam!"

The crowd became silent. Will stared hard at Tony, wondering where he was going with this conversation.

At last, Tom said, "We've got a month. Maybe…maybe some of us could work with the younger ones, teach them a few things about self-defense."

"You mean like a dueling club?" Marc said, his eyes wide and a grin spreading across his face.

"Mr. Malleus doesn't approve of dueling," Will said flatly.

"It's not dueling," Tom said. "It's self-defense."

"You think Malleus knows the difference?" Tony smirked.

"Of course he does!" Tom paused. "But still, maybe it would be better if we didn't actually advertise what we're doing."

Will looked at his brother, wide-eyed.

"They teach a lot of basic defensive spells in third and fourth years," Alice said. "There's no reason some of us older kids couldn't, you know, help the younger ones with their homework—informally, of course."

"Yeah, maybe in groups of three or four at a time," added Tony. "Nothing that would require a teacher's say-so."

There were enthusiastic nods of approval all over the Proudfeather common room.

"All in favor of Tom Proctor heading up a dueling—I mean, a self-defense tutoring program for the younger students?" Tony grinned. Everyone answered with a hearty "Aye!"

Everyone but Will, who felt suddenly sick to his stomach.

Before his eyes, he had watched his housemates form a dueling club intending to operate under the noses of the teachers—with his own brother as its leader!

He couldn't help but think this had been the Dread Arcanum's plan all along.


	12. Brother against Brother

The ice didn't start melting until Sunday afternoon. Although warming and drying charms cleared narrow pathways between the classroom buildings and the dormitories, no one was inclined to spend any time outside. In the Proudfeather dormitory, students played games and listened to the wizard radio.

Late Sunday night, Will finally managed to animate the remainder of his pigeon. Tom helped him transfigure a couple of old wire coat hangers into a serviceable cage to keep it in until Monday afternoon. Ms. Goates awarded him a C for Competent for his efforts and congratulated his determination in seeing the project through.

On Wednesday afternoon, Will was looking over his Potions homework in the Proudfeather common room when Jessica Robinson and Susan Jacobs called him over to the table where they were studying in the corner.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Jess and I are confused with this History of Magic chapter," Susan said. "First it says the Muggle Civil War didn't have anything to do with wizards, but then it says the Dread Arcanum made it worse. We don't get it."

"Hmm," Will pondered. "Well, first, what do y'all know about the Muggle Civil War?"

"I learned a lot last year at my Muggle school," Jessica offered. "My teacher said it was started because of differences between Southern and Northern states. There were social and economic differences, and different ideas about whether the states should have more power or less power than the government in Washington. But mostly it was about slavery. The Southern states wanted to expand slavery in the West, but the Northern states were opposed."

"That's a pretty good summary," Will said.

"And weren't there even people trying to get rid of slavery in the South?" Susan added. "What were they called?" She flipped pages in her textbook. "Abolitionists."

"Right," Will said. "Susan, I bet you can help Jessica understand why witches and wizards wouldn't be interested in a fight over slavery."

She looked up at Will, puzzled.

"Or maybe I should say, 'a fight over _human_ slavery.'"

The light suddenly dawned. "You mean house elves?"

Will grinned.

"What are house elves?" Jessica asked.

"Magical Beings," Will explained. "They're bound to a human family that they have no choice but to serve."

"Oh, I see!" Susan said. "The enchantments on house elves make them _want_ to serve humans, even though they're actually very powerful Beings. A wizard wouldn't be interested in having human slaves. A wizard slave would be useless without a wand, and once you gave him one, he'd try to escape. And you could probably do ten times more work with your own magic than a Muggle slave could do."

"Exactly," Will said. "It was hard to convince most witches and wizards that their fellow humans should ever be enslaved, because they knew about Beings for whom slavery came naturally."

"That makes sense," Susan said.

"Of course, there were plenty of wizards who were just plain prejudiced. They didn't like certain people—wizard or Muggle—because they belonged to a different race. Some of them even made money off the slave trade, even though they mostly only sold slaves to Muggles. The idea of owning another human being never really took off among our kind."

"Okay," Jessica said. "So that's why the Civil War was for Muggles only," she mused. "But why did the Dread Arcanum get involved? What did they get out of it?"

"Fear, I guess," Will said. "Hatred. Chaos. Death. There are kinds of Dark magic that need those things for their power." Will felt a lump in this throat as he began to describe what the Dread Arcanum had done 150 years ago.

"Or maybe they hoped neither side would win. Things would just get so bad eventually the country would fall apart—both North _and_ South. Then they could have taken over, put a wizard-run government in place."

"Maybe they were just evil and liked seeing so many people suffer," Jessica said.

"You could be right, Jessica," Will sighed.

"So…" Jessica scrunched up her face attempting to wrap her mind around the concepts she was learning. "All these battles with tens of thousands of people killed: Gettysburg, Chickamauga, Spotsylvania Court House…and the terrible way all those slaves were treated…."

"Muggles would have done it all anyway," Will frowned, "but Lycus and Actaeus Goates hoped to get something out of it, so they worked behind the scenes to make it even worse. They planted Dread Arcanum members among the officers on both sides. In the Muggle governments. Even among the Abolitionists. It was just like Grindelwald and Hitler—but you won't learn about them until next year."

"Well, thanks." Jessica said flatly. Her eyes, it seemed, had been opened to a whole new range of human depravity.

"It's okay, Jess," Susan said. "That was a long time ago. We don't have to worry about the Dread Arcanum ever coming back."

* * *OOOOO

By the weekend Will noticed Tom congregating with students he didn't normally hang out with, including several third- and fourth-years. Tom kept a piece of parchment in the inside pocket of his cloak that he would take out after each cluster of young Proudfeathers left so he could jot something on it.

He rarely let this parchment be seen except in the Proudfeather common room, however. At meals or between classes it never left his pocket.

Sunday night Tom approached Will as he huddled over the last bit of Magical Creatures reading he needed to get done before class the next day. He leaned in close to his younger brother and said, "You've never told me if you're interested."

"Huh?"

"Look, I know it might be awkward with me, but you could work with a different group. Alice Boykin can take another person tomorrow night at 8:00, and Gus Burlington and Sonny Averitt have a group meeting Wednesday morning before breakfast."

Suddenly Will realized Tom was talking about the "Defense tutoring program" Tony had somehow maneuvered his brother into leading.

"Not interested," he said.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Tom said. "Nobody's going to rag on you if you don't catch on right away."

Will felt his cheeks warm.

"Tom," he said, "are you sure this is such a good idea? Somebody could get hurt."

"Nobody's going to get hurt!" Tom scoffed.

"And you know this how?"

"Whoa! Back off, Will. We're just trying to help. We don't want a replay of what happened in Malkinville last weekend."

"Right, teach a bunch of kids some new jinxes and hexes and send them into a village full of paranoid grown-ups. What could _possibly_ go wrong?"

"It's not going to be like that, Will. We're just going to help kids get some extra practice with spells Mr. Malleus is already teaching them."

"I see," Will said. "So, have you told Mom and Dad yet? I'm sure they'd be proud."

Tom swallowed. "No. I haven't told them," he said. "And I'd like it if you didn't either."

Will rolled his eyes.

"Because you're so modest you don't want them to know about your selfless service to us ignorant third-years, is that it?"

"No, Will, because they wouldn't understand—just like you obviously don't understand!"

The conversation was getting loud. A couple of jittery first-year boys collected their books and headed to their rooms, not sure what might happen next but dreading the possibilities.

"Then why don't you explain it to me? Because to me this doesn't sound like anything more than an invitation to trouble."

"I didn't ask to lead this thing," Tom said.

"No, you didn't!" Will shouted. That was the point, after all. If it had been Tom's idea, Will probably would have gone along with it. But it wasn't Tom's idea. And Will knew the people who were really behind it were up to no good.

Will and Tom didn't speak to each other for the rest of the week. Adam and Marc were apparently in Gus and Sonny's Wednesday morning "study group," and Phinehas and Rodney worked with Tom on Thursday morning. Although they weren't supposed to say anything, they couldn't help but talk about how cool it was to practice spells on each other and get tips from older students. At least none of them said anything about learning any new hexes.

Will seethed all week long. He had been on the verge of giving up entirely on trying to stop the Dread Arcanum. But then they made it personal by bringing his brother into it. He vowed he would find a way to expose them.

Friday was Tom's sixteenth birthday. As it turned out, Tony, Sonny Averitt, and the members of the Quodpot team really did plan a small surprise party for Tom—Will had assumed that was just an excuse Tony used to lure him to the Dread Arcanum's hideout. They sprung it on him after supper Friday night. There were streamers and a "Happy Birthday" banner and even a cake that was no doubt prepared by the Malkin Academy elves.

Will went to his room to fetch the present he had bought for Tom two weeks ago. He had wrapped it shortly after he bought it and hidden it in the bottom of his closet. As he took it out, however, he hesitated.

It wasn't that he didn't want to give Tom a gift. They were still brothers, after all, despite their current animosity.

But as he held it in his hand a thought occurred to him. Tomorrow was the next Quodpot game—Fairgarland and Strongfoot. Everybody would be there. That meant it was the perfect time to act. He knew what he had to do, and Tom's birthday present might come in handy.

* * *OOOOOOOO

Will decided to walk out to the Quodpot stadium with all the other kids. If he stayed back by pretending he was sick or had homework to do, Tony would be suspicious. He wanted the day to begin as uneventfully as possible. He ate lunch with Kate and Felicia as always, he joined in the speculation about precisely how badly Fairgarland was likely to get beat, and at the appointed time he rose from his chair with every other Proudfeather and walked to the stadium.

It was a sunny day, and warmer than it had been lately. Spring was only a few weeks away. The students doffed their heavy cloaks and coats—some had even left them behind in their rooms—as they enjoyed the sunshine and the gentle breeze.

Will sat with Kate, Felicia, and Dana for the first twenty minutes or so of the game, helping Dana cheer for her house team. As one-thirty approached, he started to make a show of hoarse coughing.

"Are you okay, Will?" Dana asked.

"Just a little tickle in my throat," Will said. After a couple more coughs he said, "I'd better go get a drink of water."

He slipped out of the stands and jogged back to the dormitory, where he grabbed the book bag he had emptied the night before. Now all it had in it was Tom's unwrapped birthday present and a few items Will had hastily snatched from Adam's almost-empty Wizard Wheezes box.

He approached the carriage house at a casual pace, scanning the skies. He knew the five members of the Dread Arcanum were all at the game, but that didn't mean they wouldn't soon know if someone trespassed on their secret lair.

Will heard the raven's throaty rattle before he saw it sitting in a nearby tree. As Will continued to approach the carriage house, it took flight, landing in its customary spot on the carriage house roof. It bobbed and twisted its head to get a better look at Will. It gave an agitated squawk.

"Hey, Simon," Will whispered. "I got something for you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his Shiny Thing. The raven took instant notice.

"Yeah, you like Shiny Things, don't you, big guy? You want this?" Will flipped the Shiny Thing into the air. The raven followed its trajectory until it landed five feet from the carriage house door. It hesitated for no more than a couple of seconds, then swooped down to claim its prize. It snatched up the Shiny Thing and flew off in the opposite direction from the Quodpot stadium.

"Birdbrain," Will muttered.

He approached the carriage house's wooden sliding door, which had been pulled shut. Will hoped this meant Mr. Slackbrow wouldn't be there. As he slid the door open the darkness inside confirmed that was the case.

As he approached the gap between two boards in the wall, the place expanded into a narrow doorway, just as it had before. Will lit his wand and crept down the steep stone stairway.

The basement was just as he remembered it: rickety school desks in one corner, a large table laden with potion-making equipment, and an untidy workbench with shelves full of hair- and nail-samples from himself and a dozen or more of his classmates.

There were also two wands on the workbench—wands stolen from Malik Trimble and Emily Smith. This was the only part of Will's plan he was unsure about. He studied the wands carefully, noting their size and coloration. He pulled his book bag off his shoulder and retrieved two other wands to leave in their place. Will sighed with relief. One of the new wands was an almost perfect match for one of the stolen ones—an oak or maybe mountain ash of average length. The other replacement was about two inches too short, and was a pale poplar rather than the cherry wood wand now hidden away in Will's bag.

He concentrated on his breathing, trying to feel the magic welling up in his gut.

_This can't be as hard as a clay pigeon_, he thought to himself. He whispered the incantation for a Color-Changing Charm and let the magic flow out of him until the new wand had turned the precise shade of red he was hoping for.

Will checked his watch. He knew Rick or Greg or somebody would notice he was missing form the game sooner or later. He decided not to try to grow the now-cherry wand to the correct length; he had more important things to do.

Will found the metal plate in which Rick had conjured fire on his first encounter with the Dread Arcanum. Then he swept to the shelves above the workbench and grabbed all the little jars containing hairs, nail clippings, or other samples Rick might use to harm his friends and schoolmates. He wrapped them all in a handkerchief he pulled from his book bag and set the bundle on top of the plate.

_What if they've already done something with these samples?_ Will thought. So he closed his eyes and held out his wand. He kept his grip as loose as possible and willed himself to dowse for magic. Will's wand twitched, then pointed beyond the bundle toward the collection of potion ingredients. The samples hadn't yet been magicked in any way.

"Good," Will sighed. Holding onto the sensation of energy pulsing inside him, he tapped his wand to the bundle.

"_Atsilá_," he said. There was a flash of light and the bundle and its contents were almost immediately consumed in flames.

Will dowsed again for magic as he walked slowly past the workbench. His wand indicated a drawer, and inside it he found the _gris-gris_ Rick had used to burn him a month ago. Will slipped that in his book bag as well. He would have to do some further research about how to properly dispose of a _gris-gris_, but he was glad it was no longer in Rick's possession.

_Now for those books!_ Will thought, turning his attention to the bookshelf in the corner and the small collection of Dark Arts books the Dread Arcanum had collected.

Just as Will raised his wand, however, he heard footsteps and cursing above him. The voice was Rick Lombard's.

Will spied the old wooden door behind the potion table. Without thinking, he bounded for it. He breathed a prayer of thanks that it was unlocked and pulled it open. Just another second, and—

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Will's wand flew from his hand, struck the far wall, and dropped to the floor. "Hold it right there, Proctor!" Rick bellowed. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, wand drawn, eyes blazing.

Will whipped around, his heart beating like a timpani drum. For a second he was sure he was going to be sick. Rick used his wand to light lanterns held in sconces on the walls.

"For a kid who's supposed to be so smart," Rick smirked, "you are about the stupidest son of a banshee I've ever met! Did you really think we wouldn't notice you went missing from the game? And what did you do with my raven?"

Will was shaking all over. He tried to hide it, but he could see in Rick's eyes that Rick knew how terrified he really was.

He gulped. He could think of only one way out, and he couldn't believe he was even considering it.

"R-Rick," he stammered, "I-I'm sorry, Rick. I w-won't bother y'all any more. I give up."

"Just like that, huh, Proctor?" Rick scoffed.

Will felt his legs grow weak. At least, he knew, he didn't have to _pretend_ to be frightened for his life!

"P-please, Rick," he continued. "I'll quit trying to… I'll do anything, Rick, just please don't Crucio me again! Anything but that!"

Rick grinned. "That got your attention, did it?"

Will allowed himself to groan as he remembered the agony he felt under the Cruciatus Curse.

"The fact is, Proctor, I don't believe you," Rick said. "I think you're going to keep trying to disrupt my little club until I've properly taught you your lesson."

"Rick, p-please…"

He strolled over to the workbench, set down his wand, and picked up a different one.

"Not your lucky day, Proctor," Rick said. "Because I hate you now more than ever, and I really want to see you suffer."

Will took a breath. Any second now. He would have to move fast.

"_Crucio_!" Rick thundered.


	13. Out of the Frying Pan

Will winced, even though he knew he wouldn't feel anything. He turned and slammed the basement door shut behind him just as Rick's wand transfigured into a rubber chicken!

_Thank__ you, Mr. Weasley__!_ he thought. But he knew the trick wand would only give him a head start of a second or two.

"I want my Shiny Thing," he said, and the next thing he knew, it was gleaming in his hand. Rick pounded against the door as Will began to sprint down the rough-hewn tunnel.

He pulled a handful of black hornlike objects from his book bag just as he heard Rick kick open the door. With only a dozen steps between the two of them, Will tossed the objects on the ground and they skittered this way and that in the general direction in which Rick was standing.

Now Rick was holding Will's own wand.

Will bolted as fast as he could in the other direction.

"_Crucio_!" Rick shouted. Will felt the spell hit him, but only as a slight twinge in his stomach. Will didn't have time to ponder why the curse didn't hurt him, however, for just as Rick threw it, the tunnel was flooded with a flurry of sound and light as a handful of Decoy Detonators went off all around him. Rick tried the Cruciatus Curse again. When nothing happened, he flung Will's wand to the ground.

Will didn't stop running until he came to the first fork in the tunnels. He leaned back against a wall to catch his breath and wondered which way he should go. He was pretty sure he had been here before when Blossom the elf was leading the way. He thought hard, trying to remember when she turned right and when she turned left. He took a wild guess and pressed on.

He didn't hear any footsteps—or threats. Rick must have decided it wasn't worth it to chase him. He dreaded what would happen the next time the two of them met.

_They__'__re__ gonna __kill __me!_he thought. Without warning a dizzy, queasy feeling bubbled up in his stomach. He staggered forward and vomited.

By the dim light of his Shiny Thing, he stumbled a few more steps, then leaned against the wall again, this time sliding limply to the ground. His heart was still racing. His stomach was still churning. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and willed himself to calm down. He was safe—for now—but he was lost and wandless.

Will sat in silence for several minutes, ears attuned to any sound other than his own breathing. He debated retracing his steps to look for his wand, eventually realizing he had no choice but to do so. He stood up, brushed the dirt from the seat of his pants, and tried to remember which way to turn when he reached the first fork in the tunnel.

He was mostly sure he had turned left at the most recent fork and right at the one before that, but he wasn't completely sure. As he stood in the shadows pondering which way to go, fear once again threatened to overtake him.

_What __if __I__'__m __stuck __down __here?_ he shuddered.

Will wondered if Blossom or Satchel or some other Malkin elf would hear him if he shouted for help. Fearing he had nothing to lose, he decided to give it a try.

"Hello!" he shouted. His voice echoed again and again through the narrow tunnels in every direction. He hoped to heaven that Rick couldn't hear him in his secret hideout. When at last the sound of his voice faded away, Will shouted again.

There was a cracking sound behind him. Will spun around to see a tiny figure in pure white buckskin vest, leggings, and breechcloth.

"Young Mister!" Satchel the elf exclaimed. If anything, the creature's eyes were even larger than the first time Will saw him. The expression on his face was somewhere between concern and fear. "What is Young Mister doing down in the tunnels? Blossom told him the tunnels is only for Yunwi Tsunsdi."

"I know, I know," Will said. "And I didn't mean to trespass. I'm afraid I've gotten lost again…and I've lost my wand somewhere down here."

Satchel tilted his head and arched one hairless eyebrow.

"Y-you don't think you could help me find it, do you?"

The elf frowned. "Young Mister is wrong to keep visiting the tunnels," he mused. "But Satchel will help him if he promises to stay above the ground."

"I promise!" Will said. "I think I…lost it back that way." He indicated the tunnel he thought led back to the secret room beneath the carriage house.

Satchel sighed, then vanished with a pop. He was gone for maybe ten minutes, in which time Will pondered what to do once he reached the open air. He didn't see how the Dread Arcanum would ever let him get away with destroying the hair and nail samples they needed to work magic against his friends or with stealing back the wands they were using to practice forbidden spells. His only hope was that they wouldn't dare draw attention to Will by sending him to the Infirmary with wounds he couldn't explain.

He smiled, although there was nothing mirthful about his mood. Will realized he had become an irritant to the Dread Arcanum by stumbling upon their existence—and more than once! His inquisitiveness had eventually forced them to hide under a Fidelius Charm. When he continued to get in their way, it forced them to bring him under it as well.

But the more he thought about it, that seemed like a foolish risk on their part. Maybe they feared he would piece together the clues he had learned before they cast the charm. Maybe—and this seemed quite likely—they simply wanted someone to practice Dark magic on and thought the Fidelius Charm was good insurance against him ever telling anyone.

Another popping sound interrupted Will's thoughts as Satchel reappeared, his wand in his hand. Will smiled again, and this time he meant it.

"Thanks, Satchel! I really owe you one."

The elf's lower lip began to quiver. "Young Mister…_thanks_ Satchel for his simple service!" he whispered. "Young Mister says…says he _owes_ Satchel!" Without warning, the elf began to bawl openly.

Will thought about trying to comfort the elf, but couldn't see how that wouldn't make matters even worse. Instead, he ran his fingers appreciatively over the smooth-grained wood of his wand. He slid it into his book bag and turned to Satchel.

"Satchel…Satchel, if you don't mind…. We can go now if you're finished. Which way is out?"

"Follow me, Young Mister," Satchel said with a sniffle. He shuffled back the way Will had most recently come. The boy and the elf zigged and zagged several times before the tunnels shifted from bare earth to plaster and brick. Will was at last confident that they were heading back toward the kitchens under Osserly Hall. After another few minutes, he could clearly hear the sound of clanking pots and pans, running water, and padding feet.

"Human boy coming through!" Satchel cried. Suddenly, the kitchen sounds faded into eerie silence. The elf opened a door and ushered Will into the kitchen.

"Satchel thinks Young Mister can find his way from here?" the elf said, gesturing toward the stairway Will had used before to ascend to the Dining Hall. With a wave, Will turned and bounded up the stairs two at a time.

He swung open the door at the top of the staircase and entered the Dining Hall. The room was full of people. Will checked his watch; it was almost suppertime. No one seemed to have noticed his arrival, however. He scrambled for the door, eyes darting left and right—and barreled into someone. His book bag fell off his shoulder and its contents scattered.

A couple of students had gathered around the figure Will had knocked to the floor.

"Vice Principal Goates, are you all right?"

"Let me give you a hand."

Will froze. Vice Principal Goates pulled herself up to her full, impressive height, rubbed her hip, and gave him an icy stare. He reached for his book bag, but it was well out of reach. He shut his eyes and waited for the other shoe to drop.

"Mr. Proctor," the Vice Principal said. Will was suddenly aware that not a single person in the entire Dining Hall was talking. All eyes were on him and Ms. Goates.

"I wonder if you'd like to explain _this_?" Will looked down at the hand she was extending in his direction.

In her hand were three wands: Will's and the two that Rick Lombard had stolen.

* * *

><p>Will had never seen the inside of Vice Principal Goates's third-floor office. It was a large room with dark paneling on the walls—although you couldn't see much of those walls because three of them were taken up almost completely with bookshelves. In the center of the room was a ponderous oak desk with leaves of parchment in tidy stacks to one side and a quill and inkwell to the other.<p>

Ms. Goates's window, with its green satiny curtains, overlooked the back lawn of Osserly Hall. Next to the window hung two photographs. The first was of an adult witch who bore a striking resemblance to Ms. Goates, although quite a bit younger. At first Will thought it _was_ a younger Ms. Goates, but the second photograph convinced him otherwise. The second photo was definitely his Vice Principal. There was no mistaking her slim features or her steely demeanor even though she was only in her mid-twenties and her hair seemed darker than its familiar steely gray. She stood beside another witch in front of a vast medieval castle. This somewhat older bespectacled witch wasn't quite as tall as Ms. Goates and wore her black hair combed back into a tight bun. Will guessed the picture had been taken during Ms. Goates's studies in Europe.

On the opposite side of the window were a collection of framed diplomas and certificates: Malkin Academy Class of 1958, Society for Applied Thaumaturgy, Salem Witches Institute, Order of the First Wizarding Families of Virginia, and several others. Next to the certificates was a shelf of medals and trophies of various kinds. He recognized the symbol of the American Anti-Dark Arts League on one of them, but couldn't get a clear look at the rest—mainly old school trophies by the look of them, as well as some kind of antique ring in an open jewelry box.

What most enthralled Will was the impressive collection of books. He felt awestruck at the depth and breadth of the Vice Principal's personal library. She had her own set of the _Spell-Caster__'__s__ Desk__ Reference_, of course, as well as the complete _Encylopaedia__ Pythonica_ and a number of older volumes that left Will salivating. Under different circumstances, he almost surely would have investigated more closely. As it was, he sat alone, rooted to his seat and staring at the walls of the Vice Principal's office for what seemed like an eternity. He didn't know what was coming, but he couldn't imagine how it could be good. He was found in possession of stolen wands. If Ms. Goates did _Prior __Incantato_ on them, she would discover they had been used to perform Dark magic. And if she asked Will to explain himself—he grimaced at the thought—all he would be able to do was sit there stupidly with nothing to say.

It was all Will could do to keep from breaking down in tears. Was this the end of his Malkin education? Was he about to be expelled? Were Magical Law Enforcement officers on their way even then to take him off to wizard prison?

The door opened. Will stood up and whipped around to see Ms. Goates and Mr. Corntassel enter the room. His head of house wore a pained, wearied expression. The Vice Principal looked like she had just downed a shot of vinegar.

"Sit," Ms. Goates hissed. Will slumped back down into his chair.

Ms. Goates took her seat behind her large wooden desk. Mr. Corntassel pulled up a chair to Will's right, but angled it so he was looking straight at him, not sitting by his side.

Both teachers silently stared at him.

"The stolen wands have been returned to Mr. Trimble and Miss Smith," Vice Principal Goates said at last.

Will didn't volunteer a response.

"_Prior __Incantato_ reveals nothing out of the ordinary."

This surprised Will immensely, but he tried not to show it.

"Your own wand tells a different story, however."

Will tried with some great effort to swallow. His throat was as dry as dust. Mr. Corntassel glanced at Ms. Goates and then spoke.

"Will, whom did you try to curse with the Cruciatus?" His teacher's voice was slow and deliberate. Will could tell it was breaking his heart to be having this conversation.

"I-I didn't…" Will realized that he was free to tell the truth, that he hadn't tried to Crucio anyone, but that the Fidelius Charm would keep him from answering the additional questions that would inevitably follow. He considered two or three different ways to finish the sentence he had started, all of which would have landed him in even more trouble than he was already in.

"No one has come forward to accuse you," Mr. Corntassel continued. "You're a very fortunate young man. The hippalectryon core of your wand wasn't up to throwing an effective curse. It's just not suited for it."

_So__ that__'__s __what __happened_, Will thought.

"If your wand had cooperated," Mr. Corntassel shook his head, "the matter would be out of our hands."

"As it is, Mr. Proctor," Vice Principal Goates interjected, "Mr. Corntassel and I insist that you explain your behavior." Her voice began to rise as she rattled off the suspicious details. "What were you doing lurking in Osserly Hall after curfew last month? Why did you pick a fight with Mr. Segola? How did stolen wands get into your book bag? And, most importantly, why were you attempting to cast an Unforgivable Curse—and who was your intended victim?"

Will had gotten so used to the way the words seemed to evaporate in his throat when he wanted to speak of the Dread Arcanum that he simply leaned back in his seat, helpless.

Ms. Goates threw up her hands. "That's it, Mr. Proctor? You just sit back with nothing to say?"

Will was certain the temperature in the Vice Principal's office had dropped at least five degrees.

_Rick__ Lombard __and __his __friends __are __teaching __themselves __Dark __Arts_, he thought. _I __was __trying __to __stop __them_.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again when nothing came out. He could barely even remember the words he had intended to say. He realized he was beginning to sweat. He was sure his cheeks were pink.

"I…I…" It was no use. Will's heart was pounding from the effort of saying a single syllable. He gave up and sighed, shrugging apologetically.

"I'd have thought you would at least have a decent lie to tell us," Ms. Goates scowled. "You're a clever boy. Surely you could think of something!"

"Strigia," Mr. Corntassel said.

Will tried as best he could to look concerned. Under the circumstances, it seemed it was all he could do.

"Your head of house has appealed for leniency. But frankly, Mr. Proctor, I would be far better disposed to his suggestion if you would give me a _reason_ to be lenient!"

"Strigia, this isn't getting us anywhere."

"Mr. Corntassel," Ms. Goates snapped, "I will thank you not to undermine my authority in my own office!" There was an awkward silence in which the two teachers merely stared at each other, one in fury, the other in compassion. Will tried to follow the unspoken exchange that passed between them.

_It__'__s __Rick __Lombard! __He__'__s __dangerous __and__ you__'__ve __got __to __do __something!_ Try as he might, Will simply couldn't get his brain and his tongue to cooperate.

When at last Ms. Goates spoke, she seemed flustered.

"Well…," she began brusquely, "this has obviously been a difficult semester. The unpleasantness with Mr. Guinfort, the fire in Malkinville, and now…this." The last word fell off her tongue as if it were something nasty she had been forced to taste.

"I will, of course, be sending an owl to your parents. You will spend detention with Mr. Slackbrow every day after class, beginning tomorrow and continuing until you decide to be more forthcoming," she continued. "And your refusal to answer our questions has cost Proudfeather one hundred house points."

Will sighed.

"Given the circumstances, I consider this punishment quite lenient. But Mr. Proctor," Ms. Goates glared at him. "Should anyone come forward to accuse you of attempting the Cruciatus Curse on them, or present any other evidence that you have been involved in wrongdoing of any kind, if you so much as say 'boo' to a first-year," she leaned forward in her chair, "I assure you, justice will be swift."

"Yes, ma'am," Will whispered, head bowed.

"Now, go."

Will pulled himself out of his seat. Mr. Corntassel took him gently by the arm and walked him to the door.

Mr. Malleus was pacing in the Vice Principal's outer office. He and Mr. Corntassel both shook their heads and exchanged looks that seemed to say it had been a long day.

"Have fun," Mr. Corntassel whispered, rolling his eyes.

The head of Quickfang house grunted and motioned for the student who had been sitting in the corner, out of Will's line of sight.

"Hurry up," he said. "It's your turn."

Will glanced back. He started when he saw Kevin Guinfort trudging into Vice Principal Goates's office.


	14. Groundskeeping

Nothing was officially announced about Kevin Guinfort's return to school, but by lunchtime Monday morning everyone had heard what had happened. In fact, most had heard several versions of the story.

"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement couldn't find enough evidence to charge him," Marc said knowingly between bites of barbecue sandwich. "DeAndre King says that's what most of the Quickfangs think. "They didn't have a choice; they had to let him go."

"How could they not have enough evidence?" Felicia asked. "They found Dark books and other stuff in his footlocker." Will felt a twinge in his gut. He alone knew that the Dread Arcanum had planted those things to get him out of their hair.

"Maybe they can't prove they were his," Marc shrugged. "I heard they were stolen from the restricted area of the library. All that proves is, he's a thief. That's why he's coming back on probation, but it doesn't mean he was actually, you know, _doing_ anything."

"Well," Felicia leaned in, "I heard the M. L. E. had plenty of evidence, but his parents hired a big-name wizard lawyer to get him off." Everyone scoffed. "It's true! I heard Mr. and Mrs. Guinfort are pretty rich. They have a lot of powerful friends, and they probably know lots of embarrassing stuff about people high up in the wizarding government. They threatened to tell all if the charges weren't dropped."

"Then why the probation?" Kate said. "If your theory is true, wouldn't Guinfort's parents insist he be completely cleared?"

"There's another possibility, you know," Adam said. Marc, Kate, Felicia, and Will all turned in his direction.

"He could be guilty after all."

Will rolled his eyes in disbelief, and so did everyone else.

"No, think about it," Adam continued. "What if Guinfort really is a Dark Arts freak. He always keeps to himself, you know. Always moody and quiet."

"You mean like about half of Proudfeather house?" Will smirked.

"Well, who's to say he didn't just place a few key M. L. E. detectives under the Imperius Curse and make them let him go?"

"And where, precisely, does a fourth-year learn how to perform Unforgivable Curses?" Kate asked.

"It could happen," Will muttered. No one seemed to have heard him, because Adam answered Kate's question at the same time.

"Are you saying you don't know any forbidden spells, Kate?" he said. "Stinging Hex? Twitchy Ears? Bat-booger?"

Kate reddened and said nothing further.

* * *

><p>Will's last class on Monday was Transfiguration, and Vice Principal Goates's mood seemed more sour than usual. She had nothing encouraging to say to anyone, even though nearly everyone was finally getting the hang of animation spells.<p>

As soon as the final bell rang, Will slumped back to his dorm room only long enough to drop his book bag on his bed. It was time for his first afternoon of detention with Mr. Slackbrow.

He found the wiry groundskeeper outside the carriage house with his hands on his hips, gazing up at the eaves of the old wooden structure.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he whispered.

Will approached slowly, not wanting to interrupt whatever it was Mr. Slackbrow was doing—and curious as well. The groundskeeper seemed to be talking to a spider as it spun a delicate web under the carriage-house roof.

He scratched his head absentmindedly. "I'll be with you in a minute," he said, gesturing in Will's direction. Turning his attention back to the spider, he muttered, "You're crazy, you old cob. 'Storm coming'? There ain't a cloud in the sky!"

"M-Mr. Slackbrow?" Will said.

"Here for your detention, are ya?" Mr. Slackbrow said.

Will nodded. "What are you doing?"

"Wasting my time, I 'spect," the groundskeeper spat. "Dang fool spider's so agitated she don't even make sense."

"Y-you can talk to spiders?" Will gasped.

"Nope," he said. "But they can talk to me." He gestured toward the spider web with his thumb. "They'd talk to you, too, if you'd care enough to listen."

"Oh," Will said. "Divination. You read patterns in the web and hope they'll tell you about the future, right?"

"That's right. I take it you don't put much stock in such things, seein' as you ain't even taken the classes?"

The last thing Will wanted was an argument with the person he was apparently stuck with every afternoon until who knew when. But the fact was his parents had always told him Divination was a very inexact branch of magic.

"We only get to take so many electives," he shrugged.

"Well, if'n you ask me, you're missin' out not takin' Divination. It can come in pretty handy."

"Yes, sir."

"So let's get going," he said. "The weather's startin' to warm up, and that means taking care of the lawns and gardens. Now, Mr. Corntasel'll get y'all to work on the gardens in your Herbology classes, but the lawns are up to you and me. We'll have to rake up all the leaves and twigs, make sure the mulches are still in place, empty the bird boxes, and dig up weeds afore they get a foothold."

Detention was every bit as tedious as Mr. Slackbrow had made it sound. All that week, Will raked the front lawn, bagged up all the fallen leaves and twigs, and hauled them in a huge rusty wheelbarrow to the compost pile behind Mr. Corntassel's greenhouses. After the first day, Will made sure he changed into his blue jeans and his oldest pair of tennis shoes before reporting to work.

It was a sweaty, back-breaking job. There was nothing magical about it, but it also gave Will plenty of time to think.

Rick, he remembered, had said something about working on a way to get around _Prior __Incantato_. He must have been successful, although it amazed Will that a fifth-year would know that kind of magic. He always assumed criminals knew ways of fooling or evading the more common spells used to gather evidence against them, but in the wizard detective stories he had read, the only way to defeat _Prior__ Incantato_ was to use a stolen wand and then discard it. Rick—or somebody—must have done an incredible amount of research, or even devised a charm of his own invention.

This possibility vexed Will all week long. Everybody said Rick was a pretty powerful wizard. Could he possibly be _that_ powerful? Saturday afternoon, after spending the entire morning catching up on the previous week's homework, he sat in the Proudfeather common room reading up on wands and the spells associated with them. He already knew about the Wand-lighting Charm, of course. That was one of the first charms they taught first-years. And there were some other spells like the Four-Point Spell and the Masquerod Charm that didn't seem to apply.

Tom passed through the common room on his way outside. Lately it seemed every time Will saw his older brother, a handful of third- and fourth-years were tagging along behind him, talking in hushed tones about Shield Spells, Disarming Charms, and other forms of defensive magic. Today it was Adam and Marc, who were the most eager participants in Tom's unofficial "homework" groups.

"We're working on it," Will heard Tom say. "We've just got to figure out the details."

Marc grinned from ear to ear. "I just hope I get a chance at King."

This got Will's attention. Was Marc talking about dueling with DeAndre King? But he was in Quickfang house. Had the other houses started their own dueling clubs as well?

Will scowled at his brother, who gave him a scathing look in return. Tom, Marc, and Adam left the dormitory. Will slumped down into his chair by the fire and closed his eyes.

"Hey."

Will recognized Kate's voice. He didn't bother opening his eyes.

"You still mad at me?" he asked.

"Actually, yes. But I need you to move your feet so I can get to the bookshelf."

Will let his feet drop from the ottoman where they had been resting. Kate slid past him just long enough to grab a Latin-to-English dictionary.

She stood staring at Will for several seconds.

"What are you thinking about?"

Will looked up at the ceiling. "Godric Gryffindor," he said.

"Fine," Kate snapped. "If you don't want to tell me—"

"I'm serious," Will said.

"Okay." She sat down in the chair next to Will's. "So, who's Godric Gryffindor?"

"The guy on the Famous Wizard Card you gave me," Will said. "A famous English wizard. He's coming up in History of Magic next week. They say he was the greatest duelist of his age."

Kate seemed willing to play along. "And he's on your mind because…?"

"He was a hero. Brave. He stood up for what's right, even when it cost him his closest friend."

"So, is that what's happening? Whatever is eating you up inside, whatever got you on _permanent_ detention with Slackbrow, is worth more to you than your friends?"

"No!" Will snapped. "That's not the point. I just…can't…" He willed himself to press on, but he wanted so badly to tell Kate what was going on that he could feel the words slipping away almost before he formed them in his mind. "I can't explain," he finally said, defeated.

Kate sighed. "You beat everything. You know that?"

Having nothing to say, Will returned to his book.

"That book's out of date, you know," Kate said. Will looked at her from over the cover. "My mom keeps up with all the newest wand-care books. She has a little wand-refinishing business on the side back home."

"I didn't know that."

"She swears by one called _Getting __the __Most __from__ Your __Wand_."

"Does your mom know a way to wipe spells off a wand so they won't show up on _Prior __Incantato_?"

Kate's eyes grew wide as saucers. "Will, what are you involved in?"

"Nothing," he said. Kate scoffed. "Nothing _bad_," he amended. "I'm just curious. Say I had an old wand that used to belong to my grandfather or something. I'd probably want it refinished before I used it, right? What would refinishing do to all the previous spells it was used for?"

Kate gave Will a very suspicious look.

"Mom says there's a potion that can do it, but it's very complicated, and she doesn't think it's worth the trouble. Plus, it's strictly regulated. You have to get a permit from the Bureau of Wand Management."

"I see," Will said.

"Will, you really don't want to be thinking about this," Kate said. "It could get you in a lot of trouble."

_ If you only knew how much trouble I'm already in!_

"You're right, Kate. I promise I won't do anything."

"You'd better not!" Kate said. "I'm still your friend even though you're being a jerk. But if you get yourself arrested or something…"

"I'm not going to get arrested, Kate. I promise."

* * *

><p>On Monday afternoon, Will changed into what he had begun to think of as his work clothes and went to find Mr. Slackbrow for his detention. That morning, the groundskeeper had sent him an owl with a three-word message scrawled on what looked like a ripped-off corner of a brown paper bag: "Bring your wand." As soon as he reported to the carriage house he found Mr. Slackbrow waiting for him, levitating a large wooden crate in front of him. He motioned for Will to follow as he turned and marched off toward the campus's west wall, beyond the greenhouses and gardens behind Parkinson Hall.<p>

"Ooof!" Will stumbled as his left foot gave way underneath him. He lurched forward, arms outstretched, and barely avoided losing his balance and falling headfirst onto the grass. Looking back, he spotted the hole in which he tripped. Out popped the head of a curious creature. It looked like a tiny hedgehog, and rather than fleeing the humans that had intruded on its burrow, it lunged at Will like a wounded predator.

Will gasped as the creature plunged its teeth into the hem of his blue jeans. He tried to kick it off, but it seemed to be determined to punish Will for his trespass. "Get it off! Get it off!" he cried, shaking his leg and spinning around like a drunken top.

"Hold still!" Mr. Slackbrow commanded. He had let the wooden crate settle on the ground and was pointing his wand at Will's leg, trying to get a clear shot. At last he shouted, "Confusticate!"

The creature let go, rolled three or four times on the ground from the force of Will's twitching leg, and tried to right itself. Mr. Slackbrow walked over to it. He had pulled on a single leather glove.

Although Will was no expert, he didn't think the creature looked well. All the fight had gone out of it, and it seemed to struggle to retain its balance even on all fours. As Will came closer, he was almost certain he saw the thing's eyes cross and uncross.

Mr. Slackbrow reached down his gloved hand. The creature wobbled forward to give the hand a sniff, but that gave the groundskeeper all the time he needed to snatch the thing by its spiny back. He opened the lid of the crate, dropped it in, and closed the lid again.

"Knarls," Mr. Slackbrow said. "Pound for pound they're about the nastiest beasts in these woods. Looks like we got a whole prickle of 'em, too. That means a momma with a litter that's finally old enough to be turned loose. Mr. Corntassel found 'em last night while he was checking on his vegetable patch."

"So, shouldn't we lay traps or something?"

"Traps!" Mr. Slackbrow scoffed. "Knarls are too smart to fall for any traps. If you bait 'em with food, they'll know you're trying to catch 'em and they'll wreck your garden afore you can say 'Merlin's beard.' Naw, what you gotta do is force 'em out in the open. Then you can grab 'em and lock 'em up."

Will wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. One run-in with an agitated knarl was enough!

"The trick is," Mr. Slackbrow continued, "to Confusticate 'em as soon as they pop their heads out."

"Do what to them?"

"Confusticate 'em. A Stunner's too powerful, 'specially for a young 'un like these'll be. They'd just drop dead on the spot—and Ms. Hoskins already told me she wants to show 'em to her Magical Creatures class afore we get rid of 'em."

"You mean a Confundus Charm?" Will knew his brother was only now learning how to perform the Confundus Charm in the fifth year. Will was nowhere near good enough to master it.

"I swear, don't they learn you young 'uns anything?" Mr. Slackbrow sighed. "Look, a Confundus is pretty powerful magic. You can make it so's a person remembers things that ain't never happened, or forgets things that ought to be second nature. You don't need that much firepower for a knarl. You just need to addle its brains enough for it to make one stupid mistake—like running toward your hand instead of away from it."

Mr. Slackbrow took the next five minutes giving Will a crash course in Confustication, practicing when necessary on the one knarl they had already trapped. When he was mostly confident Will knew what he was doing, he set the crate near the edge of the vegetable patch, gave Will a leather glove of his own, and pointed him in the direction of the greenhouses.

"If'n we're lucky, there'll only be another three or four of 'em," the groundskeeper explained. "Otherwise…we might be doing this again tomorrow."

Mr. Slackbrow assured Will that, if they kept stomping around and making a racket, eventually another knarl would come out to investigate. Sure enough, after about twenty minutes, Will spied a pair of beady eyes sizing him up from a burrow hole just a few yards away. He held his wand ready, but the creature kept to the safety of the shadows.

Will had a thought. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his Shiny Thing. It sparkled as the sunlight reflected off its polished metallic surface. The young knarl edged out of its hole and into the afternoon sun.

"Confusticate!" Will said, running forward. The knarl swayed as if it were drunk, and looked stupidly at Will's hand as he reached down to grab it.

By suppertime, Will and Mr. Slackbrow had captured half a dozen knarls—including a mature female that was obviously the mother of the litter. The groundskeeper made Will haul the crate across campus to the back of the library, where the Care of Magical Creatures classroom was located, and leave it in the care of Mr. Tragus, the gamekeeper.

For the next day's detention, Will had to wash one of the school buses to get it ready for a fourth-year Muggle Studies field trip. Mr. Slackbrow had moved the bus out into the open air and provided everything Will would need—water, soap, sponges, and towels. He left Will to do the job by himself while he went to dig up weeds on the front lawn. It was a bit too chilly to really enjoy the wet job, but Will appreciated doing something other than raking leaves or Confusticating knarls!

It didn't take long, however, before the air turned even cooler than it should have been. Will looked up and saw Archie the ghost hovering in front of him at the carriage house door. The young ghost stared at Will with his remaining eye—the other was as badly burned as the rest of the left side of his face. His gaze was intense, even disquieting, but he said nothing.

Will continued to scrub the side of the bus.

"Slackbrow says your name is William," the ghost said at last in his aristocratic Tidewater accent.

"Th-that's right," Will said. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of Mr. Slackbrow talking about him behind his back.

Archie floated toward him, then slipped underneath the hood of the bus and popped up, appearing to inhale deeply, like a swimmer coming up for air.

"They tell me motor oil has a most unusual aroma," he commented.

"I-I guess," Will said. "Can you smell it if you glide over it like that?"

"Not really," Archie frowned. "Perhaps a bit. After nigh on a hundred and fifty years of ghostly existence, I'd give just about anything for a whiff of a brand-new wand, warm peach cobbler, a lady's perfume," he sighed. "I daresay even the stench of a cow pasture would be heaven on earth!"

Will wasn't too sure of that, but there didn't seem to be a point in arguing.

He was curious, however, whether Archie knew about what Rick and his gang were doing at the carriage house.

"Mr…uh…"

"'Archie' will do."

"Well, Archie then. C-can I ask you a question?"

The ghost said nothing, which Will hoped implied consent.

"Y-you hang around the carriage house sometimes, right?"

"Indeed. When I was a student I loved to visit with Mr. Woolums, the coachman."

"Do you…" Will didn't yet feel the familiar lightheadedness that usually accompanied attempts to discuss the Dread Arcanum, but he knew he would have to proceed carefully. His mind raced as to how to get his question out before the Fidelius Charm shut him up.

"Do you know a student named Rick Lombard? He's in Quickfang."

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," Archie said, brow furrowed. "Is he a friend of yours?"

"No," Will said.

Archie gave Will a quizzical expression. Will had finished wiping down the bus. It was nearly six o'clock and the weather was turning cold.

"I'd better be going," Will said. As Archie drifted away, Will put away his supplies and began to head toward the Proudfeather dorm to clean up before supper. Crossing the back lawn, Will spied Simon the raven circling overhead.

He pulled out his wand, took careful aim, and shouted, "Confusticate!"

The raven did a barrel roll and slammed into the wall of the carriage house.

Will smiled and stretched his weary back.


	15. Bad Blood

Wednesday morning Will got his second letter from home since he began serving his detentions. It was much like the first. His parents were worried about him and wanted him to know they could share anything with them and they would still love him. He still wasn't sure how to answer these letters. He answered their first one with just a sentence or two thanking them for their concern and promising not to get in any more trouble. He knew it wouldn't satisfy them, but it was better than nothing.

Adam and Marc came to breakfast a few minutes after Will slipped his letter into his book bag. They were joking and patting each other on the back, but their expressions seemed more serious than usual. There was a fire in Adam's eye and his lips curled into satisfied smirk.

They sat down a few seats away from Will with Tom, Sonny Averitt, and Gus Burlington. The five of them hunched over their waffles, whispering about something and glancing occasionally toward the entrance to the Dining Hall.

Five minutes later, DeAndre King came in. He looked awful! He looked like he had had a bad reaction to a bee sting. His nose was red and puffy, and his right eye was so badly swollen that he could barely keep it open. DeAndre's roommate Victor Neumann guided him to the Quickfang table. Adam said something Will didn't hear, but Marc and Gus tittered as if he had told them a joke. Tom, however, gave him a scathing look.

Mr. Malleus descended from the faculty table and approached DeAndre. They spoke briefly, the only words Will caught were "bee sting" and "Infirmary." Victor guided DeAndre back the way they came.

"I thought we agreed: no hexing!" Will heard Tom say in hushed but urgent tones.

He didn't get the full story until his first class of the day, Care of Magical Creatures. Proudfeathers and Quickfangs took this class together. DeAndre King was absent, but several of his housemates shot icy stares at Adam all through class.

While most of the class huddled around the crate full of knarls he and Mr. Slackbrow had captured the previous day and listened to what Ms. Hoskins had to say about them, Adam and Marc filled in Will, Phinehas, and Rodney on what had happened at that morning's Defense tutoring session.

"DeAndre was the one who blamed us for the fire at Jolly's," Adam said under his breath. "Kenny Garlwood told me."

Will immediately didn't like the direction the conversation was headed.

"So when Gus said we were going to practice with study groups from other houses this week, I knew what I had to do."

"You're crazy!" Will hissed. "Do you know what could happen if somebody finds out what you did?"

"Y'all pay attention back there!" Ms. Hoskins called.

"Yes ma'am," Marc answered. Then he whispered, "I say he had it coming. If Adam hadn't done it, I would have."

"And nobody's going to find out," Adam added. "We're all in this together. If one of us tells, we all get in trouble."

Will's thoughts turned to Tom and the angry expression on his face at breakfast. If only his brother had listened to him! He wondered what the punishment would be not if but when a teacher discovered that he was involved in an illegal dueling club—because now there could be no other word for what he and the rest were running.

Will spent his nine o'clock break in the library going over his homework for the remainder of the day. He breezed through Arithmancy at ten, and at eleven trudged across the lawn to Parkinson Hall for Potions class. After class, Will offered to help clean up the classroom while the rest of the third-year Proudfeathers and Strongfoots headed to lunch.

Madame Glapion welcomed his offer. She didn't suspect that Will had an ulterior motive. He had finally convinced himself that the best way to dispose of the _gris-gris_ he had retrieved from under the carriage house was to take it apart and wash the pieces down the drain in the Potions classroom. There was a basin in Madame Glapion's laboratory where students took their spoiled potions and ingredients. It didn't connect to the rest of the Malkin Academy plumbing. Instead, it emptied directly into the ground far below the campus. Substances disposed of in this way were rendered magically inert—which was precisely what Will wanted.

Madame Glapion didn't seem to notice when Will secretly dropped the lock of his hair and the other bits that made up the _gris-gris_ in with the remains of his classmates' failed Wiggenweld potions. She thanked Will for his help and sent him to lunch.

The rest of the day was mostly uneventful until detention, which consisted in laying down fresh ground cover around the trees that graced the great lawn between the main gate and Osserly Hall. Will at first hoped Mr. Slackbrow would teach him some kind of mulch-spreading charm, but the groundskeeper insisted he do the job without magic. He left him a shovel, a rake, and a wheelbarrow full of mulch while he headed off to tend to other duties.

As Will spread mulch around a dogwood tree in front of Parkinson Hall, he overheard angry voices behind him. A girl had accosted a boy by calling him an unspeakably rude name. The boy said something unflattering about the girl's looks, and Will recognized the voice belonged to Reggie Gill, Tom's friend and teammate.

Still working, Will turned his body to see what was going on. The girl was Hippolyte Krupp, a fifth-year on the Quickfang Quodpot team. The two had stopped only ten or twenty feet from Will and continued to exchange words.

"Tom already talked to him," Reggie snapped. "He said it was an accident."

Hippolyte Krupp rolled her eyes. "You don't _accidentally_ shoot a Stinging Hex, Gill."

"Well, you don't accidentally accuse somebody of arson, either!"

The Quickfang girl smoldered. She stepped forward until she was only inches away from Reggie and jabbed a finger in his face. "You just tell Proctor he'd better control his little rugrats. Put 'em on a leash if he has to!"

"How about you loan him yours?"

The next thing Will knew, Reggie and Hippolyte had squared off, wands at the ready. Mr. Slackbrow was nowhere to be seen, and no other adults were on the lawn. Will dropped his rake and stood there as if in a trance. Three or four other students appeared, drawn to the commotion the Quickfang girl and the Proudfeather boy were making.

_Just __walk __away,__Reggie! _Will thought.

Amazingly, he did just that. Maybe he glanced up at the second-floor windows of Osserly Hall and wondered if any teachers might be watching the confrontation below. Maybe he had second thoughts about hexing a girl—even one a year older than he was. He turned away, spat something that sounded like "Not worth it," and marched across the lawn in the direction of the library.

Will realized he had been holding his breath. He exhaled, then inhaled deeply.

The handful of students that had begun to gather broke up as quickly as it had formed, though more than one voiced disappointment that violence had been avoided.

* * *

><p>The bulletin board in the Proudfeather common room held a notice that the Malkinville day trip would proceed as scheduled that coming Saturday. This news seemed to lift everyone's spirits. Will, however, saw the irony in the teachers thinking the students had done so well staying out of trouble when in fact they had spent an entire month conspiring behind their backs!<p>

Will changed out of his work clothes and went to supper. Cleaning up after his detentions always made him one of the last to arrive, so when he entered the foyer of Osserly Hall he was surprised to see another heated argument underway in front of the tally boards where house points were registered.

This time it was first-years. An almond-eyed Quickfang boy was wagging a finger in the face of Jessica Robinson. Jessica was pink in the face. Will couldn't decide if she were about to run away or lay into the boy.

"What are you even talking about?" she cried.

"Just a word to the wise, _Jessie_," the boy said. "If Adam Sizemore thinks this is over…"

"Kam, what are you doing?" Kevin Guinfort appeared from the double doors at the other end of the foyer. He strode toward the first-years at double speed. Will held back, wand in hand, to see what was going to happen next.

The younger Quickfang boy spun around. Beneath Guinfort's surly gaze he suddenly looked small and timid. He apparently had nothing more to say.

"King and Sizemore can take care of themselves," Guinfort said. "This isn't her fight—and it isn't yours, either!"

Now the boy flushed pink.

"Move," Guinfort said, and the younger boy slid silently past him into the Dining Hall.

"Sorry about him," he said to Jessica. She, too, slipped away into the Dining Hall.

Guinfort cursed under his breath and shook his head. As he also turned to go to supper, Will said, "Thanks for that."

The Quickfang boy spun around. He sized up Will and said something, or maybe it was merely a grunt.

"No, really," Will continued. "What you just did was…well…. Not everybody would have bothered. Like I said, thanks."

"You're Tom Proctor's brother, right?"

"Yeah. Will." It didn't quite seem right to offer his hand or even approach Guinfort. He didn't seem the type for formal introductions.

"Hippolye Krupp is gunning for your brother, you know. King was in her dueling group. She doesn't like to lose."

Will gulped.

"The last Quodpot game of the season's coming up," Guinfort said. "Us against y'all."

"I know."

"Gonna be interesting." And with that, Guinfort turned and walked away.

* * *

><p>Each day, the mood on campus seemed to brighten a bit. Twenty-four hours after DeAndre King's "bee sting," the veiled threats between Quickfangs and Proudfeathers had largely come to a halt. Tom, Will had learned, had spent all day Wednesday getting the word out to everyone in the dueling club to walk away from any provocation. He was livid that Adam had actually hexed a fellow student, no matter his reasons. He laid down the law, and his housemates complied.<p>

Will wondered if something similar had taken place in Quickfang—and in Strongfoot and Fairgarland, if they had dueling clubs as well. Tensions seemed to have subsided, if for no other reason to keep Principal Towne from canceling the Malkinville trip at the last minute.

On Friday morning, Will received another owl from Mr. Corntassel. His behavior, it said, was once again exemplary. If he was willing to explain his previous behavior, and especially the attempted Cruciatus Curse discovered on his wand, there would be no need for further detentions, and Will would be permitted to join his classmates in Malkinville.

Will crumpled up the note and stared at his eggs and bacon for a good long time.

Students counted the days—and then the hours—until nine o'clock Saturday morning. Then, nearly everyone third-year and older gathered on the front lawn for the short hike to Malkinville.

With the campus almost entirely to himself, Will decided to spend his afternoon in the library. Detentions kept him busy during his prime studying time and left him exhausted after supper. If it weren't for the weekends, he wasn't sure he'd have kept up as well as he had, especially now that his teachers had ramped up their preparations for the coming Basic Achievement Tests in Sorcery.

It wasn't that he found the B.A.T.S. all that hard (at least not in the theoretical subjects), but they were quite thorough. Teachers liked to pile on additional homework to review all the major topics they expected would be covered. For most students, this meant their frustration level rose and their interest level waned from early March until the end of April.

Will reviewed all the Charms Ms. Ruiz had taught them since last August, both the standard Charms and the most common Folk Charms she had introduced in January. He jotted fresh notes in his notebook and magically rearranged the pages so the new material came right after the old notes he had taken in class. He outlined in some detail three or four essays Ms. Ruiz suggested were likely to appear on the third-year Charms B.A.T.S.

Then he opened his Potions textbook to the review questions at the end of the most recent unit Madame Glapion had covered. The first question was, "Name the most basic magical uses of the following mundane elements," followed by a list including antimony, arsenic, bismuth, boron, and about half a dozen others.

_No__problems__there_, he thought. He scanned the rest of the page and convinced himself he was fairly well prepared for his Potions B.A.T.S. The same was true for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, and he was pretty sure he had a handle on Muggle money—though he made a note to review the chapters in his Muggle Studies textbook on electricity and household appliances at least one more time before the test.

Before starting on Defense Against the Dark Arts, Will tried to compose a letter to his parents. Their letter to him still languished at the bottom of his book bag, unanswered. This was his third or fourth attempt at a reply. He knew he could cook up some sort of lie about nothing being wrong and there not being any reason to worry, he also knew they wouldn't buy it for a minute. Yet whenever he even came close to writing the truth, his fingers seized up, and he literally forgot how to write a single word.

In the silence of the nearly empty library, he hoped he would have better luck.

_**Dear Mom and Dad,**_

_**Thanks for your letter. I'm sorry to have worried you.**_

_So __far, __so __good_, Will thought, although he had managed to get this far before!

_**I'm also sorry it has taken this long to write. They're really piling on the homework these days. **_

He sat for a good ten minutes trying to decide what to say next. At last, he settled on something that he thought he would at least be able to write.

_**I didn't mean to disappoint you with the detention and everything. I promise I'll explain everything as soon as I can.**_

_**Love,**_

_**Will**_

Will frowned. He realized he had written precisely nothing, but at least what he wrote was honest. It was nearly four o'clock. Students would soon be returning from their Malkinville trip.

Will packed up his books and strolled to the Owlery to mail his letter.

By the time he returned to the Proudfeather dormitory the common room was abuzz with activity. Six or seven of his housemates were huddled around someone seated in an overstuffed armchair, their back to Will. Tom bent over the person, prodding at what looked like large leather flaps with his wand.

"Hold still," he said.

Will came closer and realized it was Kate sitting in the chair. Her face was red with anger, but the most startling thing about her appearance was her ears, which had been transfigured into the ears of a donkey!

"I'm gonna kill her," she muttered.

"What's going on?" Will asked.

"Merlina Hoskins," Felicia said.

"Kate's cousin?"

"Kate's _Quickfang_ cousin," she explained. As Tom worked to restore Kate's ears to normal, Felicia filled Will in. "They got into some kind of fight in town. Merlina said something about Adam and DeAndre, and things must have gotten out of hand."

"It wasn't just Adam and DeAndre," Kate said. She stroked her once-again-human ears as she rose from her chair. "Merlina's always got to have her say about everything," Kate fumed. "She thinks she's doing the world a favor by finding fault with everything. She said she wasn't surprised Adam hexed DeAndre because all Proudfeathers are cagey, thin-skinned mopes. So I told her that DeAndre must have accused Adam of causing that fire at Jolly's because all Quickfangs are all ill-tempered jerks who always have to be the center of attention."

"And that's when she jinxed you?" Tom asked.

"No," Kate said. "That's when I blasted her with a Bat-booger Hex. But she was ready with a Shield Charm. Next thing I knew…." She tugged on her earlobe.

"This is getting out of hand," Will said. "Can't we all just bury the hatchet before somebody gets hurt?"

"Not while they're telling lies about me and Adam!" Marc said. "They're all taking DeAndre's side! Let them apologize. Then we can talk about burying the hatchet."

Will thought it wise not to mention the fact that all the Proudfeathers were taking Adam and Marc's side.

"Listen, y'all," Tom spoke up. "Will has a point. Things are getting out of hand. Somebody's going to get hurt."

The room erupted with a dozen voices of protest.

"We can't let them tell lies about our housemates!" Phinehas said.

"Quickfangs always have to be the boss!" Felicia added. "Always sucking up to the teachers!"

"Who's side are you on, Tom?" said Tony Segola. "Or does being a Proudfeather not mean anything to you?"

This caused everyone to be quiet. Will couldn't remember the last time a housemate had challenged his brother. But if Tony was doing it, Will figured there had to be a reason—and not a good one.

"That's out of line, Tony," Tom said. He didn't shout. His voice was calm and even, but Will could hear the seriousness in his brother's tone. "Y'all wanted a way to get better at defending yourselves, and I agreed to be your leader. I did that for Proudfeather. But we agreed there would be no hexing. Just the spells in the Defense textbook. Seems to me if Adam had remembered that, we wouldn't be in this mess."

There was another howl of protest.

"I'm not saying Adam didn't have his reasons," Tom said when he had once again gained everyone's attention. "If it were me, I might have done the same thing—but that doesn't mean it was right. And it doesn't mean it was smart.

"We've got to prove we're better than them," Tom concluded.

"How do we do that?" Adam said.

"Don't take their bait. Don't play their game. Like I told you on Wednesday: walk away with your head held high. Since when has a Proudfeather cared what other people said about them?"

With that, Tom turned and marched away. The room fell silent, but it wasn't the silence of calmness or peace. It seemed to Will more like sitting in the eye of a hurricane.

"I'll tell you how I'm gonna prove I'm better than any Quickfang," Phinehas said. "Next Saturday. Fifty feet up. They're not gonna know what hit 'em."

Those who remained in the common room nodded and murmured with approval.

Will realized that Guinfort had been right. The last Quodpot game of the season was going to be very interesting.


	16. Into the Fire

Tom and Gus Burlington made sure that no one on the Proudfeather team did anything that week to earn them detention and thus disqualify them from playing. After Tom's speech Saturday, Will wasn't sure what to think about his brother. He hated the fact that Tony and the others had manipulated him into running the dueling club, and he was frustrated that they used his own sense of decency, fair play, and house pride to do it. Thankfully, there were no more outbreaks of violence the week before the Quickfang–Proudfeather Quodpot game. To be sure, there was more than the usual amount of boasting and trash talk on both sides, but the teachers all seemed to chalk this up to the stakes involved.

After the last game, Quickfang was 2–0 for the season and Proudfeather was 1–1. This meant a Proudfeather win would give both teams a 2–1 record and achieve a three-way tie for first place. If that happened, the Quodpot Trophy would go to the team that had scored the most total points during the season. So far, Strongfoot was ahead on points with 19, and Quickfang and Proudfeather had 15 and 14, respectively. This was therefore the one game that would determine the winner of the Quodpot Trophy. With stakes that high, it was to be assumed that everyone's tensions and competitive spirit would follow.

Naturally, the Strongfoots hoped for a Proudfeather win in a low-scoring game. A Quickfang victory made Quickfang the Quodpot champions outright. However, if Proudfeather won but scored fewer than five points, Strongfoot would take home the trophy. Few thought this would happen, however. Both Proudfeather and Quickfang had averaged over six points in their first two games.

Fairgarland house was completely out of the running with a 0–3 record. Not having a stake in the outcome, they divided their support evenly between the two opposing teams.

Many students in Strongfoot and Fairgarland sensed that there was more animosity between the other two houses than was usual before a big game. Some had an inkling of what it was all about, although there were dozens of versions of what had actually happened to rile everybody up. Some seemed to take whatever story they had heard into account when deciding whom to cheer for in the upcoming game.

Will spent the week keeping up with his schoolwork, studying for his B.A.T.S., and serving detentions with Mr. Slackbrow. With the raking and mulching done and no additional knarl-sightings, he found there wasn't nearly as much to do. For a few days, he simply followed the groundskeeper as he strolled the grounds picking up litter. On Friday the two of them visited the Quodpot stadium to make sure everything was in good order for Saturday's game. They mowed the grass with a couple of old push-mowers that had been magicked to respond to simple wand gestures. Then they used Color-Changing Charms to touch up the markings on the field.

"Gonna be a doozy," Mr. Slackbrow said offhandedly as he worked on the mid-field line.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The game," he said. "Y'all think I don't pay no attention to what's going on around here, but I do. You all and the Quickfangs got some kind of score to settle, and I reckon the Quodpot game's as good a place as any to settle it."

Will pondered what Mr. Slackbrow said. It was nothing he hadn't feared for several days.

"Who do you figure's going to win?" Will asked.

The groundskeeper frowned and waved his hand dismissively.

"No, really," Will said. "Do you follow the game? What do you think?"

Mr. Slackbrow scratched his greasy head. "What they been fightin' about?"

"Nothing, really," Will sighed. "They're just fighting, I guess."

"Then I reckon whoever's bigger's gonna win."

"Huh?"

The groundkeeper walked with will to a bench on the sidelines. He sat down and gestured for Will to join him.

"If one of those Quickfang boys said something nasty about your momma, and you and him got to fightin', who d'you figure would win?"

"I-I don't know."

"Sure you do! You gonna let some little splincher sass your momma?"

"No!" Will blurted. A second later he added, "I guess I'd do whatever I could to beat him."

"And what if he was bigger'n you?"

"It wouldn't matter. I'd still give him everything I got."

"Durn right you would," Mr. Slackbrow said with a grin. "Now, what if _you_ was the one that bad-talked _his_ momma?"

Will wondered how he had managed to get into a conversation about insulting other kids' mothers, but he didn't see any way out but to follow it to the end.

"Well…," he said, "if it were me, I'm not sure I'd have my heart in it."

"Yeah?"

"I mean, before, it wasn't just about me. I was fighting for my mom, too. But if the shoe were on the other foot, I'd only be fighting for myself."

"What you're fightin' for makes a difference, don't it? If'n y'all are 'just fightin',' big is the only thing that matters. But if'n you got a better reason to fight than the other guy…well, that's a whole 'nother story."

"But what if the other kid is _really_ bigger than me. Or knows more magic…. Or has friends to help him."

"I never said it always works," Mr. Slackbrow scoffed. Will hung his head. "But I'll tell you this: there's more than one kind of 'big' in this world, Will." He patted Will on the shoulder and stood up.

"And the biggest bullies usually ain't figured that out yet."

* * *

><p>The stands were packed on the day of the game. Banners and pennants in Quickfang green and Proudfeather black flew from nearly every available surface. Even Principal Towne, who rarely attended Quodpot games, had decided to attend. He sat in the faculty section between Mr. Corntassel and Mr. Malleus.<p>

The weather was clear and sunny, as befit a late March afternoon, but Will's stomach rumbled with trepidation. As usual, he sat in the stands between Kate and Dana. As the Quickfangs and the Proudfeathers soared on their broomsticks out of the locker rooms and over the awaiting fans, the tension in the air was so thick Will felt like someone was pushing against his chest.

The referees for the game were Mr. Reddit and Madame Glapion. Both of them gathered at midfield with the team captains, Gus Burlington for Proudfeather and Antiope Krupp, Hippolyte's older sister, for Quickfang. Antiope was a sixth-year and the only girl currently playing at the Blocker position on any house team. She was as tall and broad-shouldered as most of her male teammates, and when Madame Glapion called for the two captains to shake hands, she seized Gus's hand in her own and held on tight. Even in the stands, Will could tell the two captains were squeezing as hard as possible, trying to intimidate each other—if not cause outright injury!

The same Fairgarland boy who had announced the Proudfeather–Strongfoot game was behind the magical microphone again. As the teams launched into the air and Mr. Reddit prepared to toss the first Quod into play, he began his commentary.

"And here's the tip-off," he said. "Burlington wins the toss. It's Proudfeather in possession. Buzzard coming up on the left side with Hyatt and Dunwoody clearing the way. Buzzard dives! No, he loops around behind the cauldron and—ooh! That looked like it hurt! Antiope Krupp with a nasty looking block. Now Carrier and Harris are advancing the Quod for Quickfang. Hippolyte Krupp charges up the middle, trying to unsettle the Proudfeather Blockers. Westwood holds his ground. Krupp tries to pass him over the top, but Proctor is waiting for her. Westwood elbows into Carrier as he comes along behind. It's a loose Quod…recovered by Hyatt, who immediately passes of to McClary. That was some great defensive work by the Proudfeather Blockers! Now it's Dunwoody and Sheridan driving into the Quickfang Blockers in a double-helix pattern. McClary passes to Park, Park to Van Meter—"

Suddenly the Quod exploded with a bang and a burst of black smoke. Sarah Van Meter spun and wobbled on her broom until her feet touched the ground. As Nurse Payne checked her over for serious injuries, Mr. Reddit heaved a new Quod up into play. The score was now tied at zero, but Quickfang had eleven players on the field to Proudfeather's ten.

It was as physical a game as Will had ever seen. The Blockers on both sides seemed to go out of their way to elbow their opponents and stop them from getting anywhere near their cauldrons. Three more Quods exploded, taking out one more Proudfeather and two Quickfangs, before the first goal of the game—an easy lay-in by Quickfang—was even scored.

On the very next play, Liza Dunwoody was called for ram-rodding and had to spend several tense minutes in the penalty box waiting for the next Quod to explode. No sooner did she return to play than Ian O'Shaughnessy, a Quickfang Blocker, got called for blagging when he grabbed Phinehas Buzzard's broom tail and spun him into the pole on which the Quickfang cauldron was perched.

"O'Shaugnessy goes to the penalty box," the announcer said. The crowd rumbled with agitation as play continued.

"Walker is taking the Quod upfield for Quickfang behind Flyte and Hippolyte Krupp," the announcer continued. "The Harriers are getting into a pincer formation. Walker passes to Carrier, Carrier back to Walker. Walker shoots from ten feet out—Score! Proctor almost blocked it but he wasn't quick enough."

The Proudfeathers groaned. Their team was now behind two to nothing. Madame Glapion levitated the Quod out of the Proudfeather cauldron while Mr. Reddit tossed a fresh one up into play. Gus Burlington tipped the Quod to Phinehas, who rocketed toward the Quickfang goal, outflying even the Harriers who were supposed to run interference for him. Then, at the last second, he zoomed upwards and handed off the Quod to fellow forward Danny McClary. McClary spun in a tight circle around Antiope Krupp and gently laid the Quod in the cauldron.

"That was some amazing flying by Buzzard!" the announcer screamed.

"I've never seen him fly like that!" Kate squealed. "What's gotten into him?"

"He's being reckless," Will frowned. "They all are."

But the rest of the Proudfeather supporters whooped and cheered—if only for a second. Antiope Krupp had rammed into McClary after the play, a clear violation of the rules. Unfortunately, neither referee saw the foul. Mr. Reddit was heaving a fresh Quod into play, and Madame Glapion was speeding toward the Proudfeather goal.

"Ram-rodding!" Kate shouted.

"And after the goal!" Adam added from the seats behind them. "He should be ejected from the game!"

The Proudfeather fans booed and shook their fists in the air while the Quickfang fans merely pointed their fingers at them and laughed. McClary sped to rejoin his team on defense, but Will could tell that neither of Proudfeather's remaining Forwards were in the best of shape. Phinehas sported an obvious cut on his lip from his earlier crash into the Quickfang cauldron-post, and now Danny McClary seemed a little wobbly on his broom.

Both teams played like their lives depended on it, and there were more amazing plays on both sides. But that wasn't all. The aggressiveness Will had noticed even in the opening minutes of the game seemed only to grow as the game continued. After an hour of play, Quickfang led the game 3–2 and both teams had been reduced to five players. The Strongfoots seemed to be getting their wish of a low-scoring game, and cheered all the more for Proudfeather to win.

Tom had once again taken over leading his team in the air while Gus Burlington stood on the sidelines below, trying his best to bark out instructions and encouragement. The rest of his team consisted of fellow Blocker Reggie Gill, Phinehas Buzzard as his only remaining Forward, and two Harriers: Liza Dunwoody and Felicia Hyatt.

Both of the Krupp sisters were still in the game for Quickfang, along with Blocker Ian O'Shaughnessy, Forward Eric Walker, and Center Hannibal Mills. It was Mills who was next to be eliminated, though, when a Quod exploded in his hand just as he was preparing to shoot.

The game wore on. Will lost count of how many times each team had players in the penalty box. Nor could he keep up any longer with the bumps, kicks, elbows, and head butts every player in the air was inflicting upon the opposing team. Quodpot could be a very brutal game, but it was getting to the point Will could barely watch.

As the game entered its third hour, Antiope Krupp slammed into Liza Dunwoody so hard she fell off her broom. Nurse Payne was ready with a Hover Charm to bring her safely to the ground. Her broom hurdled blindly into the stands.

The next thing Will knew, Phinehas and Felicia were shooting toward Antiope with murder in their eyes. Felicia and Antiope grappled each other in midair while Madame Glapion blew her whistle and pried the girls apart. Madame Glapion called for time out to let the players all settle down.

The score was tied at 3–3. Both teams were down to four players. Usually, that would have meant at least another hour of play, but Will wasn't sure anyone could keep up with the frantic pace or the physical punishment for much longer. As the eight remaining players paced on the sidelines, their bruises, bloody lips, and overworked muscles were apparent to everyone. Nurse Payne applied some kind of healing salve to cuts on Phinehas's lip and above his eye while, on the other end of the field, Madame Glapion examined what looked like a broken finger on the hand of Hippolyte Krupp.

As Will expected, when play finally resumed it was clear that everyone was exhausted. Still, no one was ready to give up. They flew just as fast on their broomsticks, but more erratically. Tom and Phinehas both missed easy shots, but so did Ian O'Shaughnessy. But somehow Antiope Krupp got an easy lay-in as she plowed into Tom, and Tom made a last-second pass to Phinehas for a quick goal over Ian O'Shaughnessy's outstretched arms.

By the time another thirty minutes had passed, the score had crept to 5-5, but now each team was down to only two players: Tom and Phinehas for Proudfeather and Antiope and Ian for Quickfang. The fans had been on their feet for at least a solid hour, chanting, waving pennants, cheering every play that went in their team's favor, and angrily booing whenever something went well for their opponents.

"Nobody is giving up, folks," the announcer said. There was fatigue in his voice as well, but also nervous excitement as the game was now surely in its final minutes. "Buzzard is driving up the field, Proctor has the Quod, following close behind. Buzzard breaks to the left, long pass from Proctor—oh! O'Shaughnessy nearly knocked Proctor off his broom, but Buzzard catches the Quod. He shoots, and it's another point for Proudfeather!"

The howl of outrage from the Quickfang stands was deafening. Along with boos and hisses, there were also threats and profanities, and several Quickfang fans shook fists in the direction of the Proudfeather cheering section.

"Proctor and O'Shaughnessy are ready for the tip. O'Shaughnessy tips it to Krupp and she's off toward the Proudfeather goal. Krupp passes to O'Shaughnessy. He's looking for an opening. Proctor's guarding the cauldron from above, Buzzard from below. O'Shaughnessy backs off, passes to Krupp, Krupp to O'Shaughnessy—Interception! Where did Buzzard come from? He snags the Quod, makes a long pass to Proctor, Proctor coming in low and fast with Krupp and O'Shaughnessy right behind. Proctor breaks, lobs the Quod up to Buzzard, Buzzard circles the cauldron, just avoiding Krupp, he's looking for a shot—"

The Quod exploded in a flurry of burnt leather and black, sooty smoke. Phinehas drifted toward the ground. He didn't so much land as fell off his broom as soon as his feet touched the ground. His teammates gathered around him as Mr. Reddit heaved another Quod into the air.

Tom was now alone against Krupp and O'Shaughnessy. As the only player left on his side, he was allowed to grab the Quod on the tip-off instead of tipping it to a teammate. And that is exactly what he did. He threw his shoulder into Ian O'Shaughnessy's chest, knocked him out of the way, grabbed the Quod, and rocketed upward.

"What's he doing?" Will gasped.

"He doesn't need to score," Kate said, joy and bewilderment breaking over her face. "We're already ahead. He just has to keep the Quod away from the other team."

Tom rocketed through the afternoon sky, a hundred feet above the field. He swerved and dived while the two Quickfangs chased him from one end of the field to the other. All the while the Quickfang fans waved their pennants, stomped their feet, and tried everything they could think of to distract him.

"He's going to let the Quod explode on him on purpose?" Dana said.

"It's the only way," Kate said. "It's two against one. If the Quickfangs get the Quod, they're sure to score. This way, the game's over—and we win."

"I just hope it's fast," Will offered. "If those two catch up with him…"

The chase continued for three or four minutes, although to Will it seemed to last a lifetime. Shouts of "No!" reverberated through the Quickfang stands. Then, as Tom swooped low over the mid-field line, the Quod finally exploded. Tom jerked back as his broom kept flying forward. He pulled himself off the ground as his teammates gathered around him.

"Proctor is out, and the game is over!" the announcer yelled. "The final score is Proudfeather six, Quickfang five. Thanks for coming, everybody, we'll—"

The announcer wasn't able to finish his sentence because a Quickfang boy suddenly toppled over him and onto the scorekeeper's table. Tom's roommate, Sonny Averitt, lunged after him, fists flying. The next thing Will knew, a fight had broken out in the stands not twenty feet away.

Seconds later the first hex blasted through the crowds and a Proudfeather girl fell forward, vomiting slugs.

Students began to spill out onto the field, where the two teams, both exhausted and high on adrenaline, had already squared off at mid-field, wands in hand.

"Merlin!" Kate sighed.

Will felt his stomach rising up into his throat. He stood frozen in place while students scrambled all around him. Someone bumped into him from behind and shook him to his senses.

White as a sheet, he bounded toward the exit.


	17. Revelations

Pandemonium reigned at the Quodpot stadium. Will had made it to the top of the stairs when the first clap of thunder ripped the sky. Steely gray clouds were moving in fast from the west.

Will hesitated and was almost knocked over by a cluster of first-years pushing past him to get to the exit. Scanning the field, he tried to locate his brother in the melee. He only spied Tom when a flash of purple light outlined him as it dissipated on contact with his Shield Charm.

"Tom!" Will cried. He realized in a flash that he couldn't leave his brother—or his friends—behind. He pushed his way to the railing that encircled the field, and inched along it until he found a narrow staircase leading to the ground below. He bounded down the steps and swung open the door that led onto the Quodpot field. Thirty other students from all four houses were already there, throwing spells and fists at each other indiscriminately.

Principal Towne vainly tried to settle the crowd, which was fighting both in the stands above and on the field below. Not even Vice Principal Goates seemed able to restore order. When she shot flame-red sparks from her wand, it only seemed to add to the confusion.

Will steadied himself, took a deep breath, and tried to get his bearings. Tom was somewhere near the middle of the field. Straight ahead of him, Kevin Guinfort was shielding three younger students from the hexes that shot this way and that like errant fireworks. Will figured they had gotten pulled into the fracas by accident; they certainly looked too frightened and overwhelmed to have wanted to be there!

"Back off!" Guinfort snarled as a different Quickfang boy aimed his wand at the younger kids.

The other boy's face went white and he turned and ran.

Will took two or three tentative steps into the middle of the field, dodging and ducking. He pulled out his wand and said, "_Protego!_" A bright, transparent blue aura formed all around him—but only lasted a second or two before sputtering out. Will breathed a curse and prepared to attempt another Shield Charm when someone bowled him over from behind.

Tony Segola had rammed into him with all his strength. The older Proudfeather spun around and smiled at him.

"Having fun, Proctor?" he said. Tony dove forward to dodge a hex that was headed his way, rolled, and quickly righted himself. He shot some kind of jinx into the crowd, apparently at random.

Will scrambled to his feet. Tony laughed and turned to aim a spell in the other direction. Will had had enough. He pointed his wand and cast the first spell—the only spell—that he could think of.

"Confusticate!" he shouted.

The spell hit Tony right between the eyes. He spun on the spot and reached out his hands, trying to balance himself. He would have fallen flat on his face except that one of his hands alighted on Kate Burrough's shoulder.

Cross-eyed, Tony wagged his wand in Kate's bewildered face.

"It's too late, Proctor!" he muttered to Kate, his voice clearly slurred, "You couldn't stop Rick and the rest of us from mastering the Dark Arts now if you tried." Kate stared at him, open-mouthed. He poked his wand against her chest.

"So go ahead and sneak into the carriage house any time you want. We'll be ready for you, you splinching son of a—"

"_Stupefy!_"

A jet of crimson light shot over Will's shoulder and landed on Tony's chest. Will wheeled around to see who had cast the Stunning Spell.

Guinfort and his three young charges stood ten feet away.

"I could use a little help here, if you don't have anything better to do!"

It took a second for Will to register what was happening. By the time he convinced his body to move, Kate had already added her Shield Charm to Guinfort's. The two older students shepherded the younger ones toward the nearest exit. Will followed close behind.

Lightning flashed. Thunder rumbled. The mid-afternoon sky had turned to black.

Will was sure it was just his imagination, but he would have sworn he heard cackling laughter in the distance.

The teachers had mostly subdued the crowd with a combination of Shield Charms and Impediment Jinxes. Vice Principal Goates had magically amplified her voice and was ordering all students to return to their dorms immediately.

Will, Kate, and Guinfort led the younger students into a narrow walkway under the stands that led to the stadium exits. Will sent the first-years on ahead.

"Will, what was—" Kate started to say.

Will shushed her. He held up his hand to her mouth until he was sure the younger kids had made it to the other end of the walkway. Then he turned to Kate. There was an almost manic expression on his face.

"Tell him!" he said, gesturing at Guinfort. "Tell him what Tony said!"

Kate pulled away with the same look of horror she had when Will was under the influence of the Dread Arcanum's love potion.

"Tell him! Now!"

Kate looked at Guinfort, who seemed every bit as taken aback by Will's behavior as she was.

She sighed. "Well, he said…" Her face seemed to drain of expression before Will's eyes. He smiled.

"Go on!" he urged, hope welling up inside him.

Kate traded glances between Will and Guinfort.

"What's going on?" Guinfort asked.

"You can't, can you?" Will said. "You can't say it." He started to giggle.

Kate looked woozy. She stared at Will with a dawning expression of realization.

"You…," she began.

"I can't say it either!" He began to laugh out loud.

"You mean…all this time…?"

"For the love of Merlin, will _somebody_ tell me what's happening?" Guinfort growled.

"Uh, I'm afraid not," Will finally said, still laughing.

Guinfort scowled.

Outside, Vice Principal Goates threatened immediate suspensions for any student not in his or her dormitory in five minutes.

"We better go," Will said. The three of them hustled to the other end of the walkway. Outside, it had begun to rain.

Guinfort trotted off in the direction of the Quickfang dorm. Will and Kate veered off toward the Proudfeather dorm. As soon as no one else was in earshot, the dam broke inside Will's mind and his mouth was flooded with things he had wanted to say for weeks.

"Fidelius Charm—have you heard of it? Very complex. Tony's the Secret-Keeper. He told me to keep me quiet. I found about them by accident. Been trying to do something but it's hard when you can't tell anybody. There's five of them: Tony, Rick Lombard, a couple other Quickfangs—"

"Slow down, Will!" Kate begged.

"I can't," he said, grinning from ear to ear. His pace quickened along with his speech. "They slipped me that love potion. Got a hair sample from your cousin—but she's not one of them! And they're the ones that stole those wands to practice curses with. But they must have figured out how to wipe a spell so _Prior__ Incantato_ doesn't detect it—"

"Will! You sound like somebody hit you with a Chatterbox Jinx!"

"Yeah! Great, isn't it? They've got a whole setup under the carriage house. Some kind of secret entrance, but nobody can see it. I bet you can, now, though. 'Cause Tony told you and brought you under the Fidelius by accident. One stupid mistake! That's what Mr. Slackbrow said! Tony thought you were me! Can you believe it?"

They had reached the entrance to the Proudfeather dorm. Will took a deep breath. "We've got to talk more later."

"I guess so," Kate said, wide-eyed.

The bronze eagle-shaped doorknocker raised its head to look at them. "Password?" it said.

"Stormy Weather," Will said.

He and Kate stepped into the common room. Dozens of Proudfeathers buzzed about the room. A few were tending to the injuries inflicted upon their housemates. Others recounted their versions of what had happened after the game. Will couldn't see Phinehas or Felicia in the confusion, and Tom was missing, as well.

"Where's Tom?" Will asked.

"Infirmary," Marc said. He held a damp cloth to the right side of his face. "One of his legs got De-boned. Felicia's nose got Vanished."

"What about Phinehas?" Kate asked.

"He's there, too, but I'm not sure why. Maybe he was still hurt from crashing into that cauldron pole."

Will scanned the room. Tony Segola sat in a far corner, looking like he had just awakened from a very hard sleep.

"Kate," he whispered, "don't say anything to Tony, okay? He might not know what he did, and we need to keep it that way."

Kate nodded. "We need to talk," she said. "I didn't understand half of what you were saying on the way here. You need to tell me again—slowly!"

"Of course," Will said. "After supper let's—"

The door to the Proudfeather dormitory swung open. Mr. Corntassel and Ms. Hoskins entered the common room. The commotion died down upon their arrival, but only slightly. They scanned the room, assessed the injuries they observed, and cast Healing Charms on the more serious cases. Mr. Corntassel sent Alice Boykin to the Infirmary so someone could look at the serious gash across her forehead—apparently the result of a partially deflected Instant Scalping Hex.

With the most pressing injuries dealt with, Mr. Corntassel addressed the room.

"The heads of houses, Principal, and Vice Principal have met briefly to discuss our response to the outrageous behavior of which many of you are guilty," he said in a slow, even tone.

The crowd grew silent.

"Our best estimate is that approximately fifty students were involved in the fight, representing all four houses. If any of you believes this sort of barbarism is acceptable behavior…," he pursed his lips.

"It was self-defense!" Sonny Averitt said. "Eliot Black tried to hex me in the stands. That's the only reason I went at him!"

"This isn't the time for excuses, Sonny," Ms. Hoskins warned.

"Indeed!" Mr. Corntassel snapped. "What I saw this afternoon went far beyond 'self-defense.' You all were acting like a tribe of Rock Giants! I'm surprised you didn't start going at each other with stones and clubs!"

The elderly wizard took a deep breath.

"Now, don't get me wrong. I know that some of you were trying to stop the fight, or at least protect the defenseless. Kate, I saw how you and Will protected the Ogden twins and their friend. Seeing the two of you and Kevin Guinfort cooperating like that is the only silver lining I can find in this entire mess."

Will bowed his head. Kate and Ms. Hoskins traded glances. Will remembered that the two of them were related. This meeting must have been agony for both of them.

"The fact remains," Mr. Corntassel continued, "that today's debacle is the last of a long line of infractions that have disturbed the peace of our campus all year long. Don't think we've forgotten the riot that nearly broke out in Malkinville last month. Or the confiscated Dark objects. Or the matter of the stolen wands." Will could feel his teacher's glare burning into him. He studied his shoes as Mr. Corntassel continued.

"Nor am I convinced, after today, that I know all there is to know about DeAndre King's supposed 'bee sting.'"

Adam shuffled his feet.

"You need to appreciate the seriousness of your actions. Fighting is simply unacceptable. Do you understand?"

Mumbled assent rippled slowly through the common room.

Mr. Corntassel looked imploringly at his students. "If any of you can shed some light on what is going on, I for one would be interested in hearing whatever you have to say."

Kate opened her mouth, but seemed to choke on something before she could begin to speak. Her eyes widened as she glanced over at Will. Will simply shrugged.

"The teachers are in agreement," Mr. Corntassel continued, "that one hundred points each will be taken from Strongfoot and Fairgarland houses. As Proudfeather and Quickfang were clearly the instigators of this shameful display, those two houses will be penalized two hundred and fifty points."

The crowd gasped. A few started to protest but thought better of it.

"This puts Proudfeather house at negative ten points, in case you're interested. No house has been in negative figures this late in the term in a hundred years—and I should know!"

Will could practically feel the air being sucked out of the room.

"In addition, Sonny Averitt, Amy Nathanson, and Adam Sizemore will report to my office at nine o'clock Monday morning to discuss your detentions. No doubt others of you are equally guilty for stirring up this trouble, but you three were seen by myself or one of the other teachers. Furthermore, all after-school clubs and meetings have been suspended for one month, the April and May Malkinville day trips have been cancelled, and only those students who did not participate in today's disturbance will be permitted on any remaining school field trips."

"That goes double for any of you seventh-years coming with me to the dragon preserve next month," Ms. Hoskins added.

"Are we clear?" the elderly wizard asked. It felt like nearly a minute passed before someone spoke up.

"M-Mr. Corntassel?" Gus Burlington said. His voice was almost a whisper. Mr. Corntassel made eye contact but said nothing. "W-what about the Quodpot team? Will we be allowed to go on to the inter-mural tournament?"

Only then did it dawn on Will that Proudfeather had won the school Quodpot Trophy.

"That has yet to be decided," Mr. Corntassel said. "It was a hard-fought game, but no worse than others I've seen. If it's determined that none of your players took an active part in the violence that broke out _after_ the game, it's likely you'll get to go. At any rate, we are scheduled to host the championship game this year. We shall certainly honor that commitment—even if Proudfeather is not allowed to compete."

A shroud of gloom had descended over the crowd.

"If you'll excuse me," Mr. Corntassel said, "I'd like to check on your housemates in the Infirmary."

Mr. Corntassel turned toward the door. Ms. Hoskins followed closely behind, and in a heartbeat they were gone.

No one was in any mood to argue or complain about the severe punishments they had just been handed. Even those who had stayed out of the melee understood that the teachers had to send a message to the whole school. Most kids soon drifted to their rooms to put on dry clothes before supper.

Tony Segola still sat in the corner, although he seemed to have shaken off Will's Confustication Charm and Guinfort's Stunner. He made eye contact with Will and permitted a sly grin to creep across his face.

Back at the Quodpot field, Tony had said, "It's too late."

Will shuddered to imagine what that could mean.

* * *

><p>Will and Kate both ate very little at supper and slipped away early. They walked to Derwent Hall, where hopefully they could speak openly in the Student Commons. All the way there, Will explained his many ordeals of the past two months and everything he had pieced together about the Dread Arcanum. He even brought along his notebook to share all he had discovered about the Fidelius Charm.<p>

"I had no idea anything like this was going on!" Kate said.

"I'm not sure, but I think that's the Fidelius Charm, too," Will said. "It must keep people from noticing things even if they're pretty obvious. That's why nobody else can see the secret passage in the carriage house. The Teachers suspect something isn't right, but I doubt they'll be able to piece it all together, though."

"But you can tell me all these things." Kate was a smart enough girl, but it was obvious she was struggling to wrap her mind around the story Will was telling her.

"Tony was the Secret-Keeper," he explained again. "He's the only person that can let someone else in on the secret. But now that we're both under the Fidelius Charm, we can talk about it all we want."

The Student Commons was set up for a Gobstones tournament that had been scheduled to begin after supper. Now that all such activities were cancelled, Will and Kate had the room to themselves. Only occasionally, when someone walked through to visit with one of the many students still in the Infirmary on the other side of Derwent Hall, did they find themselves unable to converse freely.

"And they're really trying to revive the Dread Arcanum? Like in the history books?"

"It looks like it," Will said. "They started that fire at Jolly's and used it to get secret dueling clubs started. Then they got the Proud…"

Will's throat seized up as a couple of Strongfoot girls left passed through the commons on their way out. One of them stopped to buy a Fizzbang Soda from the snack-owl. As soon as they left, Will found he was once again able to speak.

"Then they got the Proudfeathers and Quickfangs at each other throats by goading Adam into hexing DeAndre."

"But why?" Kate said, exasperated. "What good does it do them to create all this anger and resentment?"

"I wish I knew," Will confessed. "I only know that Tony said it's too late to stop them now. It sounds to me like they were hoping something like this would happen—the brawl, I mean. Did you notice how that storm came up all of a sudden?"

"You think that could have been Dark magic?"

"I don't know, but I'm afraid it was."

"And…and you've already tried to let a teacher know?" Kate whispered.

"I already told you," Will said, both frustrated and despondent. "I went straight to Mr. Corntassel as soon as I could. I sat in Vice Principal Goates's office forever one night, trying to spit it out. It just won't work. The only one who can tell the secret is Tony."

"Then we've got to figure out how to get him to make another mistake," Kate said.

The door swung open again. Kevin Guinfort stalked into the commons and straight up to where Will and Kate were sitting. His wand was in his hand and he wore a disgusted scowl on his face.

"Proctor!" he snarled. "I've been looking for you!"

Both Kate and Will jumped to their feet. Will raised his hands in surrender. Kate reached for her wand.

"W-wait a minute, Guinfort…" Will said.

"You're going to tell me what's going on," the Quickfang boy interrupted. "We're not leaving here until you do!"


	18. Strange Bedfellows

"G-Guinfort, hang on," Will said. "Y-you don't understand."

"That's the point," Guinfort snapped. "You two know something about what's going on. You said so under the Quodpot stands. If you don't want to be puking slugs until Easter, you're going to talk! Now!"

Will opened his mouth, but once again he couldn't say a word. He started to hyperventilate as the taller boy jabbed at him with his wand.

"We want to tell you," Kate said at last. Will glanced in her direction. The color had drained from her cheeks and she seemed wobbly on her feet. Will knew she was trying everything she could to say something—anything—that would assuage Guinfort's anger.

"But we can't," she sighed.

"Unless…" Will suddenly had an idea. Guinfort looked at him warily.

He couldn't say anything directly, but that didn't mean he couldn't lead Guinfort to put two and two together for himself. He grabbed his notebook and handed it to the Quickfang boy. "First page," he said.

Guinfort snatched the notebook as if he were afraid it would bite him. With his wand still pointed alternately at Will and Kate, he opened the cover. His eyes grew wide.

"Fidelius Charm?" he said.

Will found himself utterly speechless, but he at least could nod. Kate did the same. Guinfort's demeanor seemed to soften, for which Will was immensely grateful.

"So you _literally_ can't tell me?" he continued. Kate and Will nodded stupidly once more.

"Does this have anything to do with Rick Lombard?" he asked. Will's eyes opened wide. He felt his cheeks turn pink. "I'll take that as a 'Yes,'" the Quickfang boy said.

"But now you're trying to get out of it. Second thoughts, huh? I gotta admit, Proctor, I wouldn't have thought a clean-cut kid like you would fall in with the likes of Lombard. It doesn't surprise me you'd get cold feet."

Will bristled at the insinuation that he was a willing partner to Rick's plans, but found it impossible to dispute Guinfort's interpretation, as his words of protest evaporated as soon as they came into his head. Beside him, Kate seemed equally perplexed.

Kate put away her wand. "Maybe…," she began. Will and Guinfort both turned in her direction. "Maybe you could tell us what _you_ know," she suggested.

"Right!" Will added. "If you already know it, maybe we can talk about it, too."

Guinfort slowly put away his wand in the leather sheaf on his belt. Kate and Will returned to their seats on the couch. Guinfort pulled up a chair.

"Lombard's good at magic. Maybe too good. He says things when there aren't any teachers around, like he's bored with his classes. He wants them to go faster, teach really powerful magic and not just what he calls the 'kid stuff' in the textbooks."

Will immediately thought of the conversation Rick, Tony, and Tom had at the Quodpot game back over Christmas break.

"That's right!" Will shouted. "Go on!"

"He's trying to get Goates to let him skip sixth-year Transfiguration and go straight to seventh-year. Same thing with Glapion and Potions."

"What about Defense?" Kate asked.

"Are you kidding?" Guinfort scoffed. "He hates Malleus. Thinks he's soft because he doesn't let us practice hexes on each other! He says he can learn more on his own than Malleus is ever going to teach him."

At this Will tried valiantly to shout, "That's it!" All he could manage was a strangled gurgle in the back of his throat. He realized he had begun to sweat from the effort.

Fortunately, Kate had the presence of mind to press further. "Does anybody agree with him when he talks like this?" she asked.

"His roommate Greg Mallary for one," Guinfort said. "Probably Greg's girlfriend, Ann Wulverston—at least when she's convinced Greg isn't flirting with somebody else! Past that, I can't say. They don't exactly announce their opinions to the world, you know." He glanced at Will's notebook, still in his hands. "Of course, if they're doing something under a Fidelius Charm, they're probably limited in what they can say openly."

"At least when other people are around," Kate commented.

"I've got to ask," Will said, his voice trembling. "Before you got suspended, I overheard you and Rick arguing outside the library. It sounded like he was threatening to turn you in—like he had something against you." Guinfort clenched his teeth. "Those Dark books and other things they found in your room…. Somebody planted them there, right?"

"Of course!" Guinfort snapped.

"And…that's it?"

"That's it," Guinfort said. Will was not entirely sure he believed him, but from the look on his eyes, Guinfort seemed ill disposed to say anything more.

"So, what did you suspect about Rick?" Kate said.

"He spends a little too much time in the restricted section of the library," Guinfort said. "He kisses up to Goates whenever he can, writes extra papers in her class so he can have access to books the rest of us don't have."

"So he's really good at Transfiguration?" Will said.

"I thought I already said that," Guinfort griped, "but I'd bet you a hundred Scepters he isn't just looking at Transfiguration books back there. After Christmas he came into the restricted section once while I was already there working on a Potions paper. Sure, he had the Transfiguration book he was supposed to be reading out on the table, nice and proper. But when I passed by I saw he had another book tucked inside: a Dark Arts book from the little I saw of it."

"And that was why he threatened you," Will said. "You knew too much about what he was up to." Will wondered how many times they had Obliviated Guinfort before they decided to try to get him expelled.

"Not as much as y'all do, it seems."

"No," Will sighed. "But let's see what Kate and I can tell you now. Rick is interested in the Dark Arts. So is Greg Mallary and _maybe_ Ann Wulverston." (Will didn't intend to add the "maybe," but Guinfort didn't know about her for sure. The word jumped into his mouth at the last second.) Will tried to say more, but found he couldn't.

Kate asked, "Why didn't you go to a teacher?"

"I tried when they suspended me! I didn't have any proof," Guinfort shrugged, "and they all like Rick. They'd never believe he's involved in anything Dark. He's been very good at hiding his tracks."

Will felt a twinge of guilt as he thought about his ordeal in Vice Principal Goates's office. If he had been able to corroborate Guinfort's story, perhaps things would be different.

"Fortunately, they didn't have any proof on me, either," Guinfort continued. "Magical Law Enforcement investigated, and when nothing turned up they had to drop the charges. 'Course, the lawyer my parents hired helped encourage them in that direction."

Kate leaned back in her seat and sighed. "It sounds like we're still stuck!" she complained.

"Maybe not," Will said. "We've got one thing I never expected: each other."

"Same here," Guinfort said. "I'll keep my eyes open. Maybe we'll catch a lucky break."

Will wanted to say, _I wouldn't count on another one_. The words sat comfortably in his mouth, but all the same he couldn't bring himself to express his doubts.

"Easter vacation is in two weeks," Kate said. "Maybe by then we'll all have a better idea of what's going on—and what we can do about it."

* * *OOOOOOO

By Sunday afternoon everyone who had been sent to the Infirmary had been released. Alice Boykin took to wearing a knit cap at all times until her hair had grown back in properly. Phinehas, and Felicia all seemed to be in high spirits, although physically and emotionally drained. If anything, their harrowing ordeal drew them even closer to each other. There was no word yet on whether the team would be allowed to participate in the upcoming inter-mural Quodpot championship, although Gus Burlington was already busy drafting a letter to Principal Towne pleading for the right to compete.

Will could feel a definite change in the atmosphere on campus. There were no overt displays of hostility between the houses—no one was willing to risk any further punishments beyond what the teachers had already decreed. But even so, a gray funk seemed to have settled over the school. When classes resumed on Monday, students were lethargic and testy. Partly, this could be attributed to their B.A.T.S. preparations, which would only get tougher over the coming month. Partly, it was no doubt remorse over the brawl after Saturday's Quodpot game. But there was something else Will couldn't quite put his finger on.

It seemed to affect the most active participants in the riot the worst. Adam dragged through his classes all week barely able to concentrate on the subject matter, and Tom reported the same of Sonny Averitt. Kate confided that she had rarely seen her cousin, Merlina, look so pale and listless.

For their part, the members of the Dread Arcanum continued to look smug and satisfied. Once Will came up on Tony and Rick in the hallway between classes.

Rick whispered, "…in her office. Seen it a dozen times."

"We can't move too soon," Tony said. Then they saw Will turn the corner. They broke off their conversation and shot him evil grins.

None of them ever accosted Kate, however. Will took that as a good sign that Tony had no memory of what he had done while he was Confusticated. He wondered if Guinfort's Stunner contributed to that turn of events.

All week long, Will kept his eyes open for signs of trouble. He went through his classes and his detentions with Mr. Slackbrow convinced that something horrible could happen at any minute, though he had no idea what. Were teachers going to start taking ill? Was lighting about to strike the Observatory? Was the lake going to turn to blood or the campus be overrun with frogs or gnats?

But nothing seemed out of the ordinary except the broad, undefined malaise that many of the students felt. Students still tried to sleep through Mr. Rainey's History of Magic classes. Teachers continued to drill their students in everything they would need for their upcoming B.A.T.S. Adam and Marc finally pooled enough money to send to Adam's brother in England for a fresh supply of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Ann Wulverston was even mad at Greg Mallary again because he was being "too nice" to a pretty Strongfoot girl.

The rash of detentions in the aftermath of the Quodpot incident brought Will a bit of company on his afternoons with Mr. Slackbrow. Although most offenders were given far harder assignments—scrubbing the floors with Ms. Truncheon, the housekeeper; feeding Mr. Corntassel's carnivorous chicory patch; or tending to the small zoo of experimental subjects in the supply room behind the Transfiguration classroom—Sonny Averitt and Merlina Hoskins were sent to help Will collect litter along the north wall.

It was not pleasant to work alongside a Proudfeather and a Quickfang who obviously had little polite to say to each other, but they both managed to hold their peace. The week dragged on.

On Thursday morning, Gus burst into the Dining Hall grinning from ear to ear.

"We're going!" he shouted, waving a leaf of parchment. Soon the entire Quodpot team had gathered around him, along with half a dozen other Proudfeathers.

"Towne says we're all clear to go! I've got the schedule right here!" He laid the parchment on the table in front of Tom. Will peeked over his brother's shoulder to read the tournament schedule:

_**American Inter-mural Wizarding Athletics Association  
>Quodpot Tournament Schedule<strong>_

_**Semi-final Round: April 14  
><span>Game 1: Malkin Academy for the Magical Arts (Proudfeather) at Sasquatch Falls Wizarding School  
>Game 2: Mooseking Institute of Magic at Salem School of Witchery (Kitchiwock)<strong>_

_**Final Round: April 21  
><span>Winner of Game 1 vs. Winner of Game 2, to be played at Malkin Academy for the Magical Arts**_

"We're lucky to get Sasquatch Falls in the first round," Marc said. "We ought to beat them with no problem."

"We can't assume that," Gus warned. "Sure, they're a smaller school, but half of the Portland Fury went there. They've got a really good program."

"I haven't heard anything about Mooseking or Salem this year," Kate said. "But Salem's usually pretty good. Which house was Kitchiwock again?"

"The ones in the red robes," Tom said. "I think their symbol is a ram or something. They walked all over Quickfang in the final game last year. They'll be tough to beat."

"We'll practice right after class today," Gus said, "then again Saturday afternoon, and every day next week." His teammates all nodded in agreement.

"After Easter we'll only have a few days before the first game," Tom said.

"Right!" Gus said. "So let's make sure every practice counts!"

Will had never seen Gus so energized. For a brief moment, the pall that had fallen over the campus seemed to lift—at least at the Proudfeather breakfast table.

* * *OOOOOO

Will and Tom were both reluctant to return home for Easter break. Tom was itching to get more practices in before they left for Sasquatch Falls. Will feared the Dread Arcanum might try something while many students and teachers were away. Gus promised to visit Tom so the two of them could work out strategies for the upcoming tournament, and this seemed to put his brother's mind at ease.

For his part, Will was only finally persuaded to go home when Guinfort told him he would be staying on campus to try to catch up on the schoolwork he missed during his month-long suspension. The Quickfang boy promised to send Will and Kate owls right away if he noticed anything suspicious.

And so on Friday afternoon, Tom and Will flooed home to Wyvern Hills. Will hoped to have a restful vacation until it was time to return to school the following Tuesday.

Easter vacation was uncomfortable for everybody. Will's parents kept trying to get him to talk about what was going on at school, but of course Will couldn't say a thing. This led to frayed nerves and a couple of pretty nasty exchanges. By Sunday, Will was spending most of his time in his room doing homework rather than socializing with his family.

At the same time, Tom decided it was his duty to get Will to snap out of whatever it was that was getting to him. After spending all of Sunday afternoon discussing Quodpot strategies with Gus Burlington, he insisted Will join the two older boys for an evening out in Atlanta. Will gave in, not because he wanted to but because he knew Tom wouldn't take "no" for an answer. He ate his hamburger in sulky silence at the "world-famous" burger joint where Tom took them, but he drew the line when Gus tried to slap one of their little paper hats on him.

On Monday a scrawny barn owl delivered a letter to Will as he sat on his back porch going over his Charms notes. He opened it to find a brief note written in a bold, angular hand:

_**Proctor,**_

_**Friday night some kid tried to break into Goates's office. Kenny Garlwood. You know him?**_

_**Guinfort**_

Will felt the color drain from his face. He ripped a page out of the back of his notebook and wrote a hasty reply while the barn owl perched on the edge of the porch swing.

_**Guinfort,**_

_**Keep your eyes open. It is very interesting that Kenny Garlwood did this.**_

_**Will**_

He attached his note to the owl's leg and sent it on its way.

Will and Tom returned to Malkinville Tuesday night. Will wanted to go immediately to Guinfort to find out more about Kenny Garlwood, but there didn't seem to be a way to do so without drawing attention. He couldn't exactly go knocking on the door to the Quickfang dormitory when Rick or one of his cronies might be there!

Fortunately, Kate was waiting in the common room for Will to arrive. No sooner than had he set his bags at the foot of his bed, Kate knocked on his door. The two of them went back to the common room.

Kate glanced at the mantle clock over the fireplace. "We've got an hour before curfew," she said. "Let's take a walk."

Without another word, she led Will past the Fairgarland dormitory and to the edge of the woods that fanned out from the eastern shore of the tiny lake.

"I guess you got a letter from Guinfort?" she asked.

"Yeah. You, too?" Will said.

"Yep. I've been back for a couple of hours. He filled me in after supper."

"Well?"

"It was definitely Kenny Garlwood. Nobody knows what he was doing in Osserly Hall after curfew, and he's not talking."

"Obviously," Will said.

"Goates is fit to be tied. She took another fifty points from Quickfang. Looks like Proudfeather won't be finishing dead last, after all. Plus, he's got detention till the end of the term."

Will's heart began pounding. "Not with Slackbrow!"

"Actually…," Kate began.

"I should have stayed home," Will moaned. He fell silent for a moment. "And Guinfort's sure he was going for Ms. Goates's office?"

"That's the story on campus. She caught him right outside her door—he didn't know she went back after supper to finish up some paperwork."

"So that's who they meant!" Will said. "Before break, I heard Rick and Tony talking. They said that something was in 'her' office. They were talking about Ms. Goates."

"What could they have wanted in Goates's office?"

In his mind, Will tried to remember every detail of Ms. Goates's office from the night he bowled her over in the Dining Hall.

"She has an awful lot of books," he offered. "Probably some that aren't in the library. I don't know about Dark Arts books, though—and I don't know why they'd risk getting expelled for anything else."

"No," Kate agreed.

"She's got some photos and certificates on her wall."

"I can't see that being very interesting to Rick and his bunch. What about valuables? Or magical items of any kind?"

Will wracked his brain. "She has some medals and heirlooms. An award from the Anti-Dark Arts League—you_ know_ that's not what they wanted!—some school awards…. I didn't get a good look, to be honest, and I don't know if any of them were magical."

Kate sighed. "This wasn't a simple robbery. There's something in Goates's office that Rick wants to complete his plans."

"I think you're right," Will said. "And you know what that means."

Kate nodded. "They're going to try again."


	19. A House Divided

As expected, B.A.T.S. preparation lurched into high gear. Even with the distraction of the attempted break-in, Will felt fairly confident, especially with another week and a half before the testing began. He was even feeling somewhat at ease about his spell-work now that he was managing to avoid over-thinking every little detail and paying more attention to his magical intuitions. _I__ don__'__t __have __to __re-invent __the__ wand_, he kept telling himself. _I __just __have __to __use __it_.

As expected, Kenny Garlwood joined Will and Mr. Slackbrow for Wednesday's detention. The two boys had little to say to each other. Will was prepared to at least be civil, but Kenny simply scowled at Will. He was obviously disgusted to have to serve detention with the Proudfeather boy.

The three of them gave the Quodpot stadium a thorough inspection for any repairs, clean-up, or improvements they could make before Malkin hosted the inter-mural Quodpot tournament finals in another week. After last month's brawl, there were holes and trenches all over the field and several nasty looking scorch marks on the walls. Mr. Slackbrow didn't make any written notes, but Will didn't doubt the groundskeeper would remember every problem he commented about fixing.

As Will trudged back to the Proudfeather dorm, he noticed Rick Lombard waiting under the covered portico in front of the Strongfoot dorm for Kenny to arrive. Kenny didn't seem to be any happier to see Rick than he was to see Will. They were obviously arguing about something, but the only thing Will heard was Rick's threat, "We're running out of time!" and Kenny's sudden outburst of, "I did the best I could!"

The inspection had taken longer than Mr. Slackbrow expected, so Will only arrived a supper by the time everyone else had left. He grabbed a bowl of beans and cornbread and a big glass of milk and carried them back to the Proudfeather common room, where he staked out a table near the window and wolfed down his meal while studying the phases of Venus for Astronomy class.

Jessica Robinson and Susan Jacobs were sitting on the floor in the midst of a sea of parchment and textbooks. Once again, the subject of conversation seemed to be History of Magic, but Will was too engrossed in Astronomy to pay much attention. After all, he still had a chapter of Muggle Studies to finish before bed, too.

"I think that's everything," Susan said. "After the Goates brothers were killed, Aurors rounded up the last of the Dread Arcanum all through the spring. By the time the Confederate Muggles surrendered, the wizarding war was already over."

Will scribbled out another practice calculation using the Venus tables in the back of his Astronomy book.

"And that's when Ms. Goates's ancestor got away?" Jessica asked.

"Must have been," Susan said.

_That __looks __right_, Will thought, studying his answers. _Now,__ on__ to __Muggle __household __appliances_…

"They just let him go?" Jessica said. "He was pretty important in the Dread Arcanum, wasn't he?"

"_What __is __the __difference __between __a __toaster __and __a __microwave?_" Will read to himself.

"I know. Crazy, right? It doesn't make any sense," Susan said. "I wonder if he bribed somebody to let him go."

"He was a spy," Will found himself saying.

"What's that?" Susan asked.

"Ms. Goates's ancestor. Mopsus Goates, Actaeus's son. He switched sides. I guess he realized how Dark his dad and his uncle had become and didn't want anything else to do with them."

"That's not in the textbook," Susan protested.

"I did a paper on it last year," Will shrugged. "Not everything gets into the textbooks, you know. But that's what a lot of historians believe. They say that's why Mopsus and his brother Argyron ended up in a duel just after the war. Mopsus was a spy and Argyron found out."

"That's one seriously messed-up family," Jessica said.

"I can't imagine why anyone would want to spread that much hatred and confusion," Susan added.

"Me, either," Will said with a sigh.

He realized he would get a lot more done at the library than in the common room as long as there was a first-year history lesson going on. He scooped up his homework and excused himself.

Will continued to be on the lookout for any sign of Dark activity. Frustratingly, there was none. He entertained the possibility of sneaking into the secret cellar beneath the carriage house to look for clues to what the Dread Arcanum was up to. He could take Kate with him this time, which might make a difference if they caught him again. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. First, the thought of being captured and tortured by Rick and his gang sent chills up his spine. Second, the only advantage he had was that it looked like no one else knew that Kate was in on the secret. That was something they could use, if they could figure out how.

Will, Kenny, and Mr. Slackbrow spent Thursday afternoon working on the Quodpot stadium. The first order of business was a half-dozen bleachers that were so old and rickety they didn't look safe any more. The two boys hauled long wooden slats from behind the carriage house across to the stadium and up into the stands. (Mr. Slackbrow wouldn't let them use a Hover Charm.) Then they removed the old bleachers and put the new ones in place.

As they worked, Will noticed that Kenny seemed to be feeling under the weather. His complexion didn't look good, and he seemed to sweat heavily with the slightest exertion. He still shot Will hateful looks, however, whenever the two made eye contact.

"Tomorrow I'll be driving the team to their game," Mr. Slackbrow said as they hauled away the old bleachers. "But you're in luck." His wry smile did not inspire much enthusiasm from either boy. "Ms. Truncheon says she can use your help getting the Guest House in shape for next week. We'll have at least one team to board for a night—two if'n we lose to Sasquatch Falls on Saturday."

"Yes, sir," Will said dully. Kenny said nothing.

"So just report to her at three-thirty at the Guest House. Right?"

"All right."

With only a few minor flare-ups, the inter-house rivalry that had so plagued Malkin Academy before Easter seemed to have been put to rest, although the students who had participated in the brawl still seemed unusually lethargic. Some were even starting to look sickly—although, the more Will thought about it, none of them looked as bad as Kenny Garlwood.

On a whim, Will spent that evening in the library researching maladies that could be brought on by Dark magic. Vampire attacks would explain the pallor and listlessness, but there didn't seem to be any other evidence of vampires afoot—and Mr. Malleus would have noticed if there were! There were at least dozen potions, Creatures, or Spirits that drained life-energy from a victim, but how could Will ever narrow down the possibilities? And he hadn't even begun to look at hexes and curses that might have similar effects.

As the evening wore on, Will found another two potions that drained energy and vitality, plus half a dozen spells and four additional Dark creatures. As far as he was concerned, the answer could have been any one of them. Discouraged, he returned his books to the re-shelf cart and headed back to the Proudfeather dormitory.

Adam and Marc were sitting at a corner table in the Proudfeather common room, smiling mischievously. They were obviously up to something, even though they had used up their supply of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes several weeks ago and the order they had placed hadn't yet arrived. What most surprised Will, however, was that Kate was leaning over Marc's shoulder, smiling.

In front of them on the table were stacks of parchment and envelopes and about half a dozen different small bottles of perfume.

"How about 'Blue-Eyes'?" Marc grinned.

"Good one, Marc," Adam said. "We haven't used that yet. This one's going to be from 'Your Sweetie.'" Both boys erupted in a fit of giggles. Adam sprayed the parchment he had been writing on with perfume, folded it up, and stuffed it into an envelope.

Will gave Kate a dumbfounded look. She excused herself from the table and pulled Will out onto the covered portico outside the Proudfeather dorm.

"What's going on?"

"Adam and Marc were bored, so I suggested a practical joke they could play on Greg Mallary."

"You _what_?"

"The way I figure it, Rick and his friends have two advantages…," Kate explained.

"Only two?" Will quipped.

Kate ignored him. "First, there's more of them than there are of us. Second, _they_ know what their plan is and we don't."

"So?"

"So it's time we start making them react to us instead of the other way around." Will saw the blaze of blue fire in Kate's eyes that usually meant she was about to do something dangerous.

"And that's why you talked my roommates into sending perfumed letters to Greg Mallary?"

"Exactly!" Kate said. "All from secret admirers—why they think he's cute, where to meet them for a date, even thanking him for the dates he's already taken them on. That was Adam's idea. And I've got to admit, he does a pretty good job imitating a girl's handwriting, too."

The wheels began to turn in Will's mind. "Ann Wulverston…," he gasped.

"…is going to have a cow!" Kate grinned.

"A house divided against itself…"

"What?"

"Something a Muggle president once said," Will explained. "A house divided against itself cannot stand." There was a gleam in Will's eye, too, now. He had instantly fallen in love with Kate's unconventional scheme. "Okay. Maybe those letters distract Greg and Ann for a few days. But I'm more concerned about Rick and Tony."

"I've got an idea about them, too," Kate said. "But I won't know if it'll work until the game Saturday."

Will hadn't thought about Kate going to the Quodpot game to support Felicia and the rest of the team. If he hadn't been on permanent detention, of course he'd have gone, too, to watch his brother. Now that he thought about it, he was sure most of Proudfeather house was planning to go.

"I hate to leave you here, Will," Kate said.

"Don't worry about it," Will said. "I'll find Guinfort if anything fishy happens."

The next morning three school owls landed in front of Greg Mallary at almost the same time. The last one, jockeying for position, nearly knocked over his pumpkin juice. Will watched out of the corner of his eye as Greg opened each letter in turn, his stunned expression growing with each one.

Beside him, Ann grabbed for the last letter before Greg could open it, held it up to her nose, and shot her boyfriend an evil look as she tore into the envelope.

Will couldn't hear what she said, but he had no trouble reading her gestures and facial expressions. Greg, of course, would be pleading ignorance. He didn't know who "Blue-Eyes" or "Sweetie" were and he had no idea who had sent him these letters.

It didn't seem that Ann was buying it. As Greg continued to protest his innocence, his face grew redder and angrier. Finally, he picked up his book bag and stalked out of the Dining Hall. Ann sat fuming.

After breakfast, the Proudfeather Quodpot team loaded up onto one of Malkin Academy's yellow school buses for the trip to Sasquatch Falls. Mr. Corntassel and Ms. Hoskins, who would serve as faculty chaperones, were the last to board the bus.

The trip would take several hours, but Will knew the bus was much bigger on the inside than the outside, and Tom and his teammates would be able to amuse themselves with games and refreshments or even find a comfy place to nap.

The Malkin Academy buses were also equipped with a matched pair of Vanishing Cabinets. The next day, someone would pull the second bus around and let fans pass through to watch the game.

The remainder of the day passed without incident, except that Will noticed Merlina Hoskins or one of the other Quickfang girls consoling Ann Wulverston and assuring her that Greg Mallary had no idea what he was throwing away by cheating on her.

Will and Kenny reported to the Guest House shortly after class to serve their detention with Ms. Truncheon. She was a stout, round-faced woman who worked in a dowdy gray dress with a pale green headscarf over her frizzy hair. She put Kenny to work dusting and cleaning the bathrooms. Will's jobs were sweeping and mopping the floors.

After about an hour, Will and Kenny found themselves working in the same second-floor suite. Will swept the hardwood floors of the bedroom while Kenny tackled the toilet of the private bath. Will knew Ms. Truncheon was busy downstairs in the kitchen. Kenny pretended Will wasn't there. Will thought about how Kate had managed to sow dissention by starting a fight between Ann and Greg. In an instant he had an idea.

"So tell me, Kenny," he said. "Who gives you dirtier jobs: Ms. Truncheon or Rick Lombard?"

Kenny didn't rise to the bait. Will tried again.

"I've got to admit, all this cleaning is no fun, but at least it doesn't make you sick."

Still nothing.

"And, as foul-tempered as Ms. Truncheon is, I don't think she'd bite your head off just because you didn't do it right."

Kenny looked up from his broom and glared at Will. "Just shut up," he spat.

"Suit yourself," Will said. "I'm just trying to make conversation. Still, I can't help but wonder why he didn't go after Goates's office himself. After all, he does know more magic."

Kenny continued to scrub the toilet.

"Do you think it was some kind of test of your loyalty? Or was he just using you as a guinea pig to check Goates's security—you know, in case she had something really nasty up her sleeve?"

Will admired Kenny's resolve. He refused to be drawn into Will's conversation, but Will could tell he was fuming over what he had said.

They finished their detention with hardly a word between them. At six o'clock, each boy returned to his own dormitory, put on fresh clothes, and went to supper. Ann, Will noted, sat at the far end of the Quickfang table from Greg and cast suspicious glances at practically all the pretty girls who walked past.

On Saturday morning—after at least half a dozen more "love letters" arrived at Greg's table—Mr. Cryer, the Muggle Studies teacher, drove the other school bus around to take students to the game. The school was protected by so many defensive charms that, apart from broomsticks, no form of magical transportation would work within its walls. He parked the bus on the gravel road just beyond the iron gates. Shortly after breakfast, about a hundred Malkin students and half the faculty gathered on the front lawn.

Ms. Goates shepherded everyone onto the bus and all the way to the back, where they stepped into the Vanishing Cabinet one by one and were instantly transported nearly 3,000 miles away to the Sasquatch Falls Wizarding School.

The campus seemed deserted with so many people absent. Will wished he could have gone. He also wished there were something he could do about Rick and the Dread Arcanum, but he couldn't exactly camp out in front of Vice Principal Goates's office in hopes of catching them. Will spent the afternoon in the library, but his heart wasn't in it. He flipped randomly through his homework but couldn't get motivated to do much besides reviewing plant anatomy and taxonomy.

The Quodpot team and its supporters didn't return until suppertime. Their long faces and slumped shoulders left no doubt about the outcome of the game. Everyone patted the players on the back. Several said "Good game" without a great deal of enthusiasm.

Tom slid into the seat next to Will. "They just outplayed us," Tom sighed.

"I wish I could have been there," Will said.

"It was a good game," Kate added as she sat down on the other side of Will. "Ya'll played hard. Only lost by one point. No need to be ashamed."

"Thanks," Tom said.

Tony Segola was one of the last fans to enter the Dining Hall. Will noticed him scanning the Quickfang table for Rick. As soon as their eyes met, Rick grinned widely. Tony smiled back, but only for a second. He put on the exhausted expression he had been wearing before as he slumped into his chair and began to fill his plate with fried chicken and mashed potatoes.

Five minutes later, Ms. Goates stalked into the Dining Hall and up to the faculty table. She leaned over Mr. Malleus, and the two exchanged whispered words. Mr. Malleus got up, and he and Ms. Goates exited the Dining Hall without comment.

Will glanced at Kate.

"Whatever they wanted in Goates's office," she whispered, "I'm afraid they got it."

"I'm afraid you're right," Will said.

"Meet me at the Owlery," Kate said. "But not for another ten minutes. We can't be seen leaving together." Kate made a point of yawning and stretching. "That game wore me out," she commented. Then she stood up and left the Dining Hall.

Ten minutes later, Will stepped into the Owlery. Kate wore a determined expression.

"We were right," she said triumphantly. "Tony doesn't have a clue that he let me in on the secret."

"Really?" Will said.

"I made a point of sitting beside him, making casual conversation, you know. Just to see if he would say anything. He didn't."

"Are you sure?"

"I gave him every chance. I mentioned how odd you've been acting lately. I brought up the fight at the last Quodpot game. I even said Mr. Malleus was my favorite teacher." Kate motioned as if gagging herself with her finger at this last statement.

"He would have said something," Will said. "He'd at least give you an evil look if he was afraid other people might be listening."

"He didn't do anything," Kate said.

"So, what do we do now?"

"We've got to drive a wedge between Rick and Tony—and the sooner the better!"

"You've got a plan?"

Kate nodded. "I've got to get alone with Rick."

"Are you serious?" Will blurted.

"It'll be okay," Kate reassured him. "You can be there, too, as long as Rick doesn't see you."

"I dunno, Kate. I don't like the sound of this."

"Would you rather let them get away with…with whatever it is they're doing?"

"No, but…well…"

"There's nothing to debate, Will. You've said it yourself: the only advantage we have is that they don't know about me. It's time we used that for our benefit."


	20. Teacher

Sunday morning, Greg received another small handful of "love letters." Ann was beyond even looking in Greg's direction. Instead, she sat alone at the far end of the Quickfang table, warily eyeing even average-looking girls who came anywhere near him.

Kate and Will spent most of Sunday pretending not to follow Rick around campus. When he ate his meals, they kept one eye on him from across the room. When he argued with Ann Wulverston on the steps of Osserly Hall, Kate was flying her broomstick high above. When he and Tony slipped off to the carriage house in the middle of the afternoon, Will was sitting under a tree on the back lawn, reading and watching. They hoped all day to catch Rick alone so Kate could spring her plan, but he seemed to be spending his day in hushed conversations with the other members of the Dread Arcanum.

Rick seemed agitated and even a little pale—and even moreso when he left the carriage house to head to supper. There were dark circles under his eyes, but he still seemed to walk with great confidence. There was a spring in his stride and a wry smile on his face as he ascended the steps to the library shortly after supper. At last, he was alone.

Kate and Will followed behind and wandered through the stacks until at last they found Rick sitting at a study table near the Astronomy section on the second floor.

"Go around behind him," Kate whispered. "But whatever you do, don't let him see you!"

Will gave Kate a nod when he had taken up his position. Kate walked over to the bookshelf closest to where Rick was studying. After pretending to browse at book titles for a couple of minutes, she gave Will a wink and approached Rick.

"Hey, Rick," she said. She set her book bag on the table and began to rummage through it. "I've got to get this Astronomy homework done," she complained. "I've put it off long enough."

Rick pretended she wasn't there.

Kate looked around. No one else was within earshot. She leaned forward and whispered, "It may not be any of my business, but do you know what Tony Segola has been saying about you?"

This got Rick's attention. He looked up at Kate.

"I don't believe it for a minute," she continued.

"What?" There was an edge to Rick's voice.

"Well, like I said, I don't know where he got such a harebrained idea, but I overheard him telling another kid that you're some sort of Dark wizard." She rolled her eyes as if she had never heard anything so ridiculous.

Rick gripped the edge of the table. "Who?" he snapped. "Who did he tell?"

"I don't know the names of all the older Quickfangs, but it was one of them," Kate said. "It's a pretty nasty rumor to tell, if you ask me. He kept going on about how you had some kind of secret hideout under the carriage house where you practiced Dark magic and nobody could find you. But everybody knows the carriage house is just a rickety old barn. I mean, _seriously_…"

Rick bolted from the table, barely taking the time to grab his book bag. "That stupid mudblood...," he muttered. He stomped away, down the stairs.

Will sighed with relief. Kate came to join him behind the bookshelf.

"Kate, that was…awesome!" Will beamed.

"Thanks. Look, he left his book open."

Will leaned over to examine what Rick had been reading. It was a table of astronomical phenomena. "Hmm," he said.

"What's the matter?" Kate said.

"Rick was looking up planetary alignments. Saturn is in opposition tonight. I wonder if that means anything?"

"Mr. Ash says there are powerful spells that can only be done when the planets are properly aligned."

"I know," Will gulped, "and Saturn is supposed to be the bringer of darkness and death."

"Whatever Rick has been planning…," Kate started to say.

Will sighed. "We'd better catch up to him," he said, and the two slipped down the stairs and out onto the front lawn. It was nearly seven-thirty. The sun would set in about half an hour.

Rick was gone. In fact, the front lawn was completely deserted.

"You go find Guinfort," Kate said. "I'll head back to the Proudfeather dorm and—"

There was a crackling sound in the distance, followed by an agonized grunt. Will and Kate turned their eyes on each other. Someone was shouting.

"Behind the library!" Kate said. She spun around and sprinted between the side wall of the library and the open, grassy space where Ms. Hoskins held her Care of Magical Creatures classes. Will was only two steps behind her.

They both turned the corner and stopped in their tracks in fright. Tony Segola was kneeling on the grass, doubled over in pain. His wand lay on the ground ten feet away. Above him stood a cloaked figure with the face of a ravenous dog. Kate made a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a shriek. She had never seen the Cynocephalus Transformation before.

The dog-headed figure took aim with its wand.

"Rick, please," Tony whimpered.

The monster merely growled an incantation and unleashed a jet of black, fiery energy into Tony's stomach. Tony toppled backwards, bruised and unconscious.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Kate shouted. But the monster—it had to be Rick, Will realized—easily resisted her spell.

"_Crucio! __Crucio!_" the dog-headed monster barked. Kate, then Will, fell to their knees in agony. Waves of pain engulfed them as Rick inflicted the Cruciatus Curse on both of them several more times. He didn't stop until they both lay unconscious in the lengthening shadow of the library.

* * *

><p>"Will!"<p>

The ground felt hard and cold against Will's back. Somebody was shaking him, which only informed him of how stiff and sore his body was. He lay in the dark, unwilling to move.

"Will! You've got to get up!"

"Huh?" Will dared to open his eyes. Kate was kneeling beside him, jostling his shoulders.

"Kate!" he cried. At once he remembered where he was and how he got there.

"How long…?"

"Not long," Kate said. "But we've got to get up—now!"

Will pushed himself up with Kate's help. By the light of Kate's wand he saw Tony, pale and still, lying a few feet away.

"Where's Rick?"

"I dunno, Will. He was gone when I woke up."

"Tony…?"

"He looks pretty bad," Kate said. "I tried _Finite_ on him but it didn't do anything. I'm not sure what kind of curse Rick used on him."

Will crawled over to Tony as he pulled out his wand. The older boy was unconscious. His breathing was fast and shallow.

"_Deleo __perniciem_," Will muttered. Tony twitched a little. Will tried the spell again. Still nothing happened.

"That's the only counter-curse I know," Will confessed.

"I'm going to the Infirmary," Kate said. "Get some help."

"Right. Hurry back."

Will knelt beside Tony for several minutes. The sky was getting darker as the sun had finally set. Looking to the east, he saw a sharp, clear point of light that had to be the planet Saturn low on the horizon. Tony needed help, but somebody had to stop Rick!

Will swallowed hard. _Kate __will __be __back __any __second_, he told himself. _But __Rick __has __to __be __stopped_ now.

He sprung to his feet, trying not to think about the residual pain from multiple Cruciatus Curses that still tormented his body. He took off at a run. He circled around to the front of the library, intending to head straight for the Quickfang dormitory. But he was in luck: the person he was looking for was trudging across the front lawn, book bag slung over his shoulder, wand lighting the way.

"Guinfort!" Will called. The Quickfang boy spun around. "I need your help!"

"Yeah?"

Will stopped and supported himself with a hand on Guinfort's shoulder. "Y-you remember what we were talking about? In the Student Commons?"

Guinfort puzzled for only an instant before understanding registered on his face. "Lombard," he spat.

"I need you to come with me. Now. Something bad is about to happen."

Guinfort nodded and the two of them were off. Will stepped in front and ran around Osserly Hall, past the Quickfang and Strongfoot dorms, and onto the back lawn.

"This way!" he said. As he expected, Simon the raven was perched atop the carriage house. Without breaking his stride, Will Confusticated Rick's familiar. It slid off the roof.

The carriage house door was open just enough for someone to slide inside. "In here," Will whispered. The two boys slipped into the carriage house. Will tiptoed to the place in the wall where the gap between two boards marked the entrance to the secret passage. Unlike in the past, however, the passage did not open up for him as he approached. He stood for a second staring at the wall.

"What's the matter?" Guinfort asked.

"Merlin!" Will whispered. "Of all the…. Guinfort, I'm sorry. It looks like…" Will's mind went blank. He had been about to explain that Guinfort's presence was apparently keeping the secret entrance from opening. Try as he might, Will couldn't think of a way to say what he needed to say. All he could do was grunt in frustration.

"All right," Guinfort said after watching Will struggle for half a minute. "I'm thinking this has something to do with the Fidelius Charm. There's something in here I'm not allowed to see. Right?"

Will nodded enthusiastically.

"Then… I guess I could stand guard outs—"

Outside Simon loudly cawed. He must have returned to his post on the roof. Guinfort immediately doused his wand light and crept to the door.

"I told you, I don't know who these girls are! It's some kind of sick joke!"

"You're the sick joke, Greg Mallary. If you think for one minute…."

"It's Mallary and his girlfriend," Guinfort whispered.

"He can't come in!" Will said.

Guinfort glanced at Will with a look that seemed to say, "Are you sure you're up to this?" Will gestured toward the door with his wand. Guinfort stepped outside.

Guinfort said nothing, but Will heard Greg's outburst of profanity, followed quickly by flashing lights and the sound of crackling magical energy.

As soon as Guinfort left, the secret passage opened. Will went through it.

"Greg, is that you?" Rick called from below. Will took a deep breath. He bounded down the stairs and aimed a Disarming Spell at Rick as soon as he hit the floor. Rick's wand bounced off the ceiling. At the same time, a jet of crimson light flashed toward Will. He sidestepped it and conjured a Shield Charm just as Kenny Garlwood tried to hit him with a second Stunning Spell.

"_Rictusempra!_" Will cried. Kenny began to giggle uncontrollably, as if unseen hands had suddenly found their way to all his ticklish spots.

The confusion gave Will a second to take stock of his surroundings. He was standing in front of the blackboard of the makeshift classroom. Things looked mostly the same as they had on his previous forays into the lair of the Dread Arcanum, except that the Potions table, usually more in the center of the room, had been pushed against the far wall. In the empty space, someone had traced a circle on the earthen floor and marked the cardinal points with strange magical symbols.

Rick retrieved his wand from the floor. Kenny was on his knees, trying to fight back laughter. None of the other Dread Arcanum members were present. Tony, of course, had had his membership viciously revoked. Greg and Ann were outside dueling with Guinfort.

A book lay open on the Potions table with a silver ring on top of it.

"Proctor!" Rick snarled. Then, taking aim, he bellowed, "_Sanguilutum!_" The same bolt of black fire he used on Tony bore into Will's Shield Charm. To his surprise—no less than Will's—the Shield held up against it. Will felt a sudden chill and an intense pressure on his ribcage, but nothing more.

"Get up, you idiot!" Rick shouted at Kenny, who was still trying to fight off Will's Tickling Charm. He turned his eyes off Will just long enough to cast the counter-jinx.

Will had his hands full facing one Dark wizard at a time. He knew he wouldn't last ten seconds if it were two against one. Then he noticed that Kenny had dropped his wand. With another deep breath, Will shouted, "_Wingardium__ leviosa!_" The wand shot to the ceiling—and stayed there—just as Kenny made to reach for it. Will tried to dive behind the blackboard, but—

"_Sanguilutum!_" Another black jet blazed from Rick's wand and struck Will's Shield Charm, but this time it the Shield buckled. Will felt his insides being twisted and compressed as if in a vise. He struggled to breathe. He was light-headed. He feared he might throw up at any minute.

"A few more of those and your blood'll be as thick as a milkshake, Proctor," Rick sneered. "Is that what you want?"

Will pulled himself up, using the shelves of the bookcase to steady himself. It took nearly all his remaining strength. His arms felt like they were weighed down with lead weights. "_Pr-Protego_," Will muttered. His Shield Charm failed to form. He felt cold sweat trickling down his cheeks.

Rick scoffed. "I told you before, Proctor: you're just not that good a wizard." The Quickfang boy swaggered forward. He bumped into Kenny, who was trying to jump high enough to grab his wand from off the ceiling. He scowled, and with a flick of his own wand sent Kenny's crashing to the floor. "Hopeless idiot," he said under his breath.

Rick turned back to Will. "But I'll lay off for now," he said, "Teacher might have other plans for you."

"T-teacher?" Will croaked. He had always assumed Rick was the "teacher."

"He's late," Kenny said. He sounded perturbed, but also nervous. "You said he would be here by now."

_They__ can__'__t __be __talking __about _Greg_, __can __they?_ Will pondered.

"He'll be here!" Rick growled. "He knows what he's doing. Don't question him!'

"Maybe he's busy fighting with his girlfriend," Will said between gasps for breath.

Rick laughed out loud. "You don't have a clue what you're talking about, Proctor."

"Indeed, he doesn't," a voice called from the staircase. "I haven't had a 'girlfriend,' as you say, for a good many years. Although there was a time when I was quite sweet on the coachman's daughter."

Rick and Kenny turned. At last Will could see the silvery form of Archie the ghost as he floated silently into the room. Archie grinned, which contorted the burnt portion of his face into a horrible mocking caricature.

Will's mouth fell open.

"Although perhaps, after tonight…," the ghost said wistfully. In an instant, however, his demeanor changed and he was all business. "Now, Richard. Please be kind enough to tell me what's going on? What is _he_ doing here? And where are the others?"

"Teacher!" Rick said. "I-I don't know where the others are. He—" (he indicated Will) "—showed up instead!"

"Archie?" Will muttered, dumbfounded. He found himself trembling uncontrollably.

"A serviceable alias," the ghost commented, "but since we are where we are, I prefer you address me by my true name." He bowed stiffly, but he never let his spectral eye wander from Will's ashen face.

"Permit me to introduce myself properly. The name is Goates. Argyron Goates."

Will's pulse pounded wildly. In stunned silence, his wand slipped from his grip and thudded on the floor.


	21. The Face of Evil

Rick bound Will in magical ropes. Kenny scooped up his wand and stood behind him, propping him up lest he lose his balance and topple over.

"I must say, William," the ghost who now called himself Argyron Goates said, "your attempts to thwart me, though ultimately futile, have been quite impressive. Yes, Richard has kept me apprised of your exploits."

"Y-you can't…"

"Oh, I can do a good many things, young man. Just you wait and see!"

The ghost turned to Rick. "Richard, I trust yesterday's venture was successful?"

"Yes, sir," Rick said. He strode to the Potions table and snatched up the silver ring from the book on which it lay. He extended his hand so the ghost of Argyron Goates could examine it. It must have been the antique ring from Ms. Goates's office. At last Will got a good look at it. Instead of a gemstone, the setting was a silver dog's head emblem.

"Your plan worked perfectly. The Shrinking Solution let me slip beneath the cracked window with no problem. Then it was just a matter of a Summoning Charm and a quick getaway on my broom."

The ghost smiled his unseemly smile. "Excellent!" he said. "And my great grand-niece doesn't suspect you?"

"That part of your plan worked best of all," Rick said. "Between Guinfort, Proctor here, the townspeople up in arms, the secret dueling clubs—not to mention the brawl at the last Quodpot game… Well, Ms. Goates has had too many suspects to keep track of!"

"No less than the descendant of my traitorous brother deserves!" the ghost said. "Do you know," he turned to Will, "that my despicable brother, Mopsus, had the nerve to spy against his own father?"

He gazed once again at the ring in Rick's hand. "This ring belonged to my father, Actaeus Goates. Mopsus pulled it from my dead hand when he killed me beyond these campus grounds. He had no right to it, after what he did!""

Will was still too stunned to speak.

"It's true! Actaeus Goates was one of the greatest wizards ever to grace this continent. He and my uncle, Lycus, learned secrets of magic deeper and more powerful than anyone had ever dreamed possible. They could have been gods! But my brother didn't have the stomach for the kinds of sacrifices their magic required.

"The Goates brothers brought suffering to everyone!" Will protested. "Bloodshed, hatred, panic…."

"You can't brew a potion without first lighting a fire," Argyron said with a shrug. "You may not know it, William, but there is great power in 'bloodshed, hatred, and panic,' as you say. You just have to know how to capture it." He gestured toward Rick. "A wand, please, Kenneth." Kenny drew in a breath.

With trembling hands, Kenny held Will's wand stomach-high in front of his teacher.

"Take, for example, that spectacular performance at the Quodpot stadium. Up until last month," the ghost said, "I of course was completely incorporeal. But that brawl unleashed such an explosion of bile and fury…. The only way I can describe it is to compare it to a fireman throwing more wood in a steam engine's firebox. The hotter the fire, the greater the power.

Will remembered the sudden thunderstorm that broke out during the brawl and the maniacal laughter he thought he had heard.

"Since then," the ghost continued, "I've become nearly as solid as a haint or poltergeist. I get more solid every day. And with a bit more practice…"

He reached a ghostly hand into Kenny's body. Kenny held his breath. He winced and shivered. Will watched as his face grew pale and he seemed to slouch forward.

"My students are so kind to share a bit of their life force with me. But soon they will be generously rewarded."

The ghost withdrew his hand. He screwed up his face in a grimace of deep concentration. He put forth his hand and wrapped his fingers around Will's wand. Will couldn't believe his eyes when he pulled his hand a way—and the wand went with it!

He turned the wand against Will and said, "_Avada__ Kedavra!_"

Will shut his eyes tight.

Nothing happened. He opened his eyes to see a fizzle of green light sputtering from his wand.

"Alas," the ghost said, "I'm not quite up to casting a proper spell yet. Remind me and I'll kill you later."

Argyron returned Will's wand to Kenny. He received it into his trembling hands.

"Anthony and the others are late," the ghost said, frowning.

"About Tony…," Rick began. Then he paused, unsure how to continue. At last he said, "He betrayed us, Sir—but I've taken care of him!" he added when he saw the look of surprise and anger in his teacher's ghostly eye. "As for Greg and Ann, I don't know what's happened to them."

"No matter," the ghost said. "Your work so far has been exceptional," he said to Rick and Kenny. "I have shared with you my skills, my knowledge. I have even worked to strengthen your abilities through my ghostly intervention, and in return all I have asked is a bit of the vital essence of each of you. Tonight, you will feel my power coursing through you. You will become stronger than ever before."

Rick licked his lips. Kenny gazed up at his teacher with a mixture of wonder and apprehension.

The ghost studied Rick, Kenny, and Will for some time. "Richard," he finally said, "put my father's ring on your finger. Bring the knife on the table and come stand with me in the circle."

Rick grinned. With only a slight moment of hesitation he seized a small, sharp knife from the Potions table, the kind students often used to prepare potion ingredients in Madame Glapion's class. Rick stepped into the circle, slipping the ring of Actaeus Goates onto the middle finger of his right hand.

"Now, if you please," the ghost said slowly and softly. "A drop or two of your blood upon the ring."

Rick started, but took a deep breath and complied with his teacher's instructions. He tucked his wand underneath his left arm. He pressed the knife into the palm of his left hand. He shut his eyes, then slashed the blade downward to make a long, shallow cut. He grimaced but he didn't make a sound. He held his left hand over his right, made a fist, and watched open-mouthed as a couple of drops fell onto the head of the ring.

"This should only hurt for a second," the ghost whispered into Rick's ear as he floated behind him. "Wand ready." Rick held his wand upright in front of him. He sucked in a breath and color began to drain from his face. A second later, Will understood why. The ghost was superimposing his arm over Rick's like a silvery shadow. This second arm slid down Rick's until the ghostly hand folded its fingers around Rick's wand.

"Follow my lead," he whispered. Very slowly, the ghost traced a pattern in the air with Rick's wand. Rick allowed his hand to follow, but it was obvious that he wasn't the one in control of his wand. He seemed almost in a daze. Will didn't know if this was because the ghost was draining so much of his energy or whether he was simply paralyzed with fear to see his hand move at the direction of another.

All the while, the ghost muttered an incantation and slowly turned Rick's wand around the circle, tracing more shapes and figures at each of the cardinal points. At last the boy and his spectral teacher returned to their starting point, which, Will realized, was facing toward the east, where the planet Saturn, the bringer of Darkness, would by now be high above the horizon.

"_Fiat!_" the ghost shouted. There was a flash of crimson light. The room was forcibly shaken. Tables and desks shook in their places. Vials and cauldrons wobbled on the workbench, and Will fell to the floor as Kenny let go of him in order to keep himself standing upright.

When Will opened his eyes, the ghost of Argyron Goates was no longer there. Rick was on his knees, still inside the circle.

He began to titter. Then the titter became a laugh. At last, the laugh became a loud, barking guffaw. He flung his head up and raised both his arms in triumph.

"At last," Rick said. But in a way Will couldn't quite put his finger on, it wasn't exactly Rick's voice. "At long last…"

He struggled to his feet. He was still pale, however, and seemed shakier than before.

"Kenneth," Rick said, stretching out his left arm. Kenny stood above Will, frozen to his spot. The truth dawned on both of them at once. Argyron Goates wasn't gone at all. He was _inside_ Rick!

"Kenneth!" Rick said more forcefully. This shook Kenny from his daze. The Strongfoot boy hurried to Rick's side and offered his shoulder as a support.

"You have no idea what it's like to be deprived of one's body," the ghost inside Rick Lombard said, as much to himself as to Kenny and Will. "There is no sensation. There is no hunger or thirst, no cold or warmth. Year after year, decade after decade, with nothing but…emptiness. I haunted my brother until the day he died, but even that failed to satisfy the craving in my soul. I wanted to finish what my father started, to revive the Dread Arcanum. But mostly I wanted vengeance on a world that held the name of Goates in contempt!

"Eventually, I returned to the place of my death: the old Powler Creek dueling grounds where I confronted my brother after I learned of his treachery. It was only fitting that I would find my way back here. It was the only place left for me. After all, even my own family did everything it could to sever its ties to Lycus and Actaeus Goates. Mopsus taught his children nothing about the Dread Arcanum! And their children taught the next generation to hate and disown their heritage. My own great grand-niece had the audacity to accept an award for opposing the so-called 'Dark Arts'!

"But then, wonder of wonders, I encountered a kindred spirit—if you'll forgive the expression. Young Richard and his friends had a deep interest in the sort of magic they don't teach inside these walls. Imagine my delight when they gathered at the old dueling grounds to practice their craft. They were young, to be sure, and there was much they didn't know. But that merely made them eager to learn—and I was happy to serve as their teacher."

Kenny turned his head in revulsion from the form of Rick Lombard that now leaned against him. He glanced down at Will, still bound with ropes and lying on the floor, with an imploring expression.

"I taught them curses that haven't been used in a hundred years. Potions and conjures to afflict the body and mind of enemies, tactics of deception and misdirection…and ways to avoid being caught."

"The Cynocephalus…" Will whispered.

"It is a bit flamboyant," Argyron mused. (Will wasn't sure if he should think of the boy who towered above him as Rick or Argyron.) "But it serves its purpose. As does the potion I taught them to defeat _Prior __Incantato_ and—my favorite—a subtle hex to enhance a victim's feelings of agitation and suspicion. Why destroy someone directly when you can set your enemies at their own throats, eh?" he laughed coldly.

"The truth is, I needed to, shall we say, raise the temperature at Malkin Academy for my plans to succeed. But to be honest, I had no way of knowing what would boil over first: the animosity between the students and the villagers, or that between the students' several houses. But at last the fire was sparked, and the outpouring of hatred and fury that day at the Quodpot stadium was…delicious!" Rick—or Argyron—quivered with pleasure at the memory.

"But now we come to the part of my plan that not even Richard could have guessed. The fact is—and Kenneth, I do hope you'll accept my apology for deceiving you all—I missed living in a body. The more I drew vitality from my students, the more I craved to feel blood pulsing once more inside my veins."

Kenneth dared to glance in Rick's direction. He shuddered and his eyes darted between Will and the ground in front of him.

"I knew, of course, that some spirits were quite adept at possessing living bodies. I befriended a wendigo once, long ago, for whom it came as naturally as slipping on a fresh set of clothes. The trick, it told me, was to find a victim whose soul had been so damaged by evil that it left cracks and weak spots a resourceful spirit could exploit.

"And the ring?" Will asked.

"Ah, the ring," Argyron—or Rick—said. "My father gave it to me shortly before he died as a token that I was to lead his Dread Arcanum. You see, he had already come to suspect that Mopsus was a traitor. That is why I summoned him to the dueling grounds, to confront him and repay him for his treachery. When my brother stole it from my corpse, it was the final insult to my father's memory—not to mention my own.

"We ghosts have an affinity for the places and objects that most deeply touched us in life. It was natural that I would be drawn to the ring. I visited it in Strigia's office many times in the wee hours of the night when no one was about. I suspected it would make a suitable focal object for an incantation I thought might bring me back into a flesh and blood body. And so it did."

"What did you do with Rick?" Kenny asked, his cracking voice little more than a whisper.

"My dear Kenneth," the ghost said. "How admirable for you to be concerned about your friend. Richard is still here, somewhere," he patted his chest, "at least for now. He has provided me a young, strong body to live in, however, and I doubt I'll be giving it up soon." He smiled a wry, mirthless smile.

"Is he…Is he okay?"

"To be honest, I haven't the slightest idea, nor do I care. We mustn't be sentimental, Kenneth. Some causes are worth the greatest sacrifice."

Argyron didn't notice—and there was no doubt now in Will's mind how to think of the creature above him who merely wore the skin of Rick Lombard—but out of the corner of his eye Will caught Kenny's fist clenching and unclenching around his wand. Will's own wand was still in Kenny's left hand, tapping nervously against Kenny's thigh.

"So you just used him?" Will said, glancing at Kenny. "Was he ever anything to you but a means to reach your goals?"

"This past year, teaching my students some of my deepest secrets, has been the most fulfilling experience I've had in nearly a hundred and fifty years," Argyron protested. "To see these youngsters learn and grow! To watch them reach toward their full potential. I'm shocked, William, that you would even ask such a question."

"And Rick?"

"I never said they weren't expendable," Argyron shrugged. "Leaders have to make difficult decisions all the time, William. _I_ decided that it was time for Richard to…step aside. There is nothing you—or you," he glared at Kenny, "can do about it."

"You've got a funny way of rewarding your followers," Will said. "Some might even call it 'treachery.'"

Rick's eyes flashed with Argyron's cruel expression. He aimed his wand at Will and spat, "How dare you?"

"He's right!" Kenny said. Both Argyron and Will turned in amazement toward the Strongfoot boy. "We did everything you asked of us! Even when we didn't understand, even when we were afraid. We trusted you! But all you did was take from us! And now you even took Rick's body!"

"And your point is…?"

"_Crucio!_" Kenny shouted. But his curse bounced harmlessly off of Argyron's Shield. Will had never seen anyone conjure a Shield Charm so quickly.

The now-embodied ghost seethed. Kenny had raised his own Shield Charm. He tossed Will's wand onto the floor in his direction. "_Relashio!_" he cried. The magical ropes that had bound Will slipped off him and vanished into thin air.

Will scrambled to reach his wand as Argyron's Scorching Curse blasted against Kenny's Shield. With a flash of transparent blue light, it burst like a soap bubble, leaving him unprotected.

Argyron aimed again. But by now Will was finally on his feet. "_Tenebra!_" he shouted. The lanterns on the wall went out. The room was plunged into perfect darkness. In a heartbeat, his hand was in his pocket. Grasping his Shiny Thing, he flung it high into the air. It twinkled in the darkness—and reflexively Argyron aimed his next curse directly at it.

"_'__Cawch!_" he bellowed. A jet of fire shot forth from his wand, striking the Shiny Thing to create brilliant multicolored fireworks, then proceeding to the wall behind Kenny, where it made an ugly black scorch mark.

Kenny and Will attacked at the same time, aiming by the light of both the Shiny Thing and Argyron's second Scorching Curse.

"_Stupefy!_" Will cried.

"_Crucio!_" Kenny shouted.

Argyron reeled. Will could see his chest heaving. He hoped the ghost was unused to living inside a body and had forgotten the strain of physical exertion. But if that were true or not, Will knew his only hope was to keep him busy.

He attempted a Disarming Charm just as Kenny fired a Stunner. Argyron's Shield Charm held, but Will saw his eyes dart back and forth between his two attackers.

"_'__Cawch!_" he shouted again. This time the jet of fire grazed Kenny's elbow as he dove underneath a desk. He rolled on the floor to extinguish the flames. Will moved toward the Potions table, but Argyron sensed his movement and slammed a desk into him using a Levitation Charm. His head was on fire with pain. Warm blood flowed down his neck and onto his collar where the edge of the desk tore open his scalp.

"Well played," Argyron said. "But I'm afraid the two of you together are not yet my match. _Expelliarmus!_" Will's and Kenny's wands sprung into the air. "_Mobilicorpus!_" Kenny was jerked into the air and flung viciously into Will.

"_Crucio!_"

Kenny and then Will felt the sting of Argyron's Cruciatus Curse. Will felt as if a thousand knives had dug into his flesh. Kenny, who had apparently never been on the receiving end of the Cruciatus, shrieked like a frightened puppy. The two twitched and writhed on the floor in pure agony.

Argyron's maniacal laugh deepened into a low, thunderous bark. Will opened his eyes long enough to see that Rick's face had turned into the face of a vicious dog. He continued to Cruciatus both Will and Kenny. It was far worse than anything Rick had inflicted upon Will before. This was a curse thrown by a sadistic expert in the art of torture.

Will whimpered and fought to remain conscious. Kenny lay still at his side. Part of Will's mind hoped the other boy had merely passed out. Most of his mind tried to maintain its sanity against the unceasing barrage of pain.

"_Expelliarmus!_" a feminine voice shouted.

For a second, the pain subsided. Someone had entered the lair and captured Argyron's attention. Will struggled to open his eyes. The Disarming Charm failed to wrest Argyron's wand from his hands, but it did get his attention.

"You!" Argyron growled with his doglike muzzle of a mouth.

Will tried to focus past Argyron at the tall, slim figure at the foot of the stairs.

It was Ms. Goates, and she seemed as stunned to see the dog-headed figure in front of her as he was to see her.

"Mr. Lombard, I presume?" the Vice Principal hissed.

"I was hoping to kill you before making my escape," Argyron snarled.

"M-Ms. Goates," Will groaned. "It's Archie. The ghost. He's possessing Rick."

The Vice Principal arched her eyebrows at this news. She shot a glance at Will, then fixed her gaze once more upon the re-embodied brother of her ancestor.

"Remove yourself from my student, Archie," Ms. Goates said. "Now."

"Not Archie!" the ghost bellowed. "Call me by my true name: Argyron Goates!"

Ms. Goates's jaw dropped.

"_Sanguilutum!_" Argyron barked. The black fire struck Ms. Goates's Shield Charm head on. It collapsed in a blue flash.

"You can't beat me, you old hag!" He fired a Scorching Curse. She ducked out of the way and only barely re-formed her Shield Charm in time to deflect the curse toward the wall above her head. "One hundred and fifty years!" he thundered. "I have hated you since before you were born! Your family disowned me, disowned its own noble heritage! But things are about to change."

He fired another curse—one Will didn't recognize. Once again, it dissipated against Ms. Goates's Shield. Once again, her Shield seemed to weaken and she struggled to remain upright.

"As long as I draw breath," she whispered, tight-lipped, "I shall tell the world the truth about the Dread Arcanum, that it is nothing but a pathetic, twisted insult to the magical arts and a stain on my family's honor." She attempted to Stun him, but the crimson jet of light glanced off into the ceiling.

"You don't have the stomach for the kind of magic I'm willing to use against you," Argyron taunted.

"_Quasso!_" he cried. Once again, the curse was deflected. The lintel to one side of the entryway shattered as if a giant had stomped on it from above. Dust and plastered rained down on Ms. Goates's shoulders. Her Shield Charm collapsed completely for the second time.

"I'm only getting started!" Argyron cried. "_Crucio!_"

The Cruciatus Curse knocked Ms. Goates to the ground. She cried out in pain, but quickly recovered.

"Why do I even waste my time with you?" he scoffed. "Do you even _know_ any curses?"

Ms. Goates stood up once more and brushed the dust from her robes. There was a moment's pause. Only the sound of the Vice Principal's breathing interrupted the excruciating silence.

"Precious few," she finally answered, her voice flat and even. "I find a truly resourceful witch or wizard rarely needs them." And with a subtle flick of her wand she added, "_Myomorphus_."

A soft white light emanated from her wand, spun and circled through the room, divided into two, then four, then eight or more whirling white comets, which each struck Argyron's Shield Charm from different angles and slowly penetrated his defense.

As soon as the first white tendril of light touched him, there was an odd sucking sound and a flash of even brighter light.

At first Will thought Argyron had disappeared. Then he saw on the ground in front of him a tiny white mouse. It squeaked frantically and bounded away from Vice Principal Goates.

Will scrambled to capture the fleeing mouse, but it slipped through his fingers and under the door at the back of the room that led into the tunnels that connected the carriage house to Osserly Hall.

"Are you boys all right?" the Vice Principal called. Will nodded. Kenny was still unconscious.

"H-how…?" Will tried to speak.

"Mr. Segola survived Mr. Lombard's attack," she said. "Nurse Choake was able to revive him long enough for him to write a note." She pulled a slip of parchment from inside her robes and handed it to Will. In big, barely legible letters, it simply said,

Rick Lombard has a gang of Dark wizards. They meet beneath the carriage house.

Will looked up at his teacher. "I expect this has been a difficult semester for you, Mr. Proctor," she said with her usual formality. At the same time, she performed a Healing Charm on his injured forehead. "I'm pleased that not everything I suspected about you has been accurate." She looked around the room at the obvious signs of a struggle and said, "Well done."

Will somehow remembered to exhale.

Ms. Goates had already turned to check on Kenny. She performed a Reviving Charm upon him, and called Will over to help her lead him up the stairs.

With Kenny under Will's care, Ms. Goates turned toward the rickety wooden door and called, "Blossom!"

A second later, there was a _pop!_ and Blossom the elf appeared before them. She scanned the room: the overturned desks, the scorched walls, the shattered doorpost, Kenny dazedly lolling on Will's shoulder, Will's bloody face. Her eyes grew wide with wonder.

"Yes, Vice Principal, ma'am?" she squeaked.

"Blossom, there is a white mouse loose in the tunnels. You are to find it and return it to me immediately. This is very important. Enlist all of the Yunwi Tsunsdi if necessary. It is a student who has…gone astray. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Vice Principal! And we'll be sure to punish the naughty child, too!"

"No, Blossom," Ms. Goates shuddered. "Please leave punishments to the teachers."

The elf frowned, bowed, and then vanished as soon as she had appeared.

"Now, Mr. Proctor, we should go. I expect there will be people outside who are waiting to see you."


	22. Heroes

Will, Kenny, and Vice Principal Goates emerged from the carriage house to a flurry of activity. Mr. Malleus and Mr. Corntassel were converging on them from across the lawn. Mr. Corntassel conjured a stretcher and helped Will lower Kenny onto it. Meanwhile, Mr. Malleus extended a hand to Ms. Goates. She brushed him away, protesting that she was fine.

"Strigia! What the devil is going on?" he demanded. She passed him Tony's parchment. His eyes grew wide, and he in turn passed the note to Mr. Corntassel.

By that time, Will was back on his feet. Without warning, Kate nearly tackled him from behind with a bear hug.

"Will!" she cried.

The pressure was too much on Will's battered body. He pulled himself loose, whipped around, and saw that her wand hand was wrapped in thick bandages. "Kate! Wha—?"

"Talk on the way," Mr. Malleus said. He turned and gestured for the teenagers to follow him. "Principal Towne is waiting for you in the Infirmary."

The three teachers and three students (Mr. Corntassel levitating Kenny on his stretcher) crossed the back lawn and turned toward the Infirmary. Will filled Kate in on everything that happened after she ran to get help for Tony, and she told him what happened to her.

"I knew you would be at the carriage house," she said, limping along a step behind Will. "So as soon as Nurse Choake and I got Tony to the Infirmary, that's where I went as fast as I could. Guinfort was facing off against Greg and Ann—two against one! So, I did what I could. I pulled Ann away, gave her everything I could. She barely looks like herself!" she exulted.

"Anyway, she chased me around toward the greenhouses. I'm still working off her Jelly-Legs Jinx, and she blistered my arm real bad with some kind of Fire Charm. Then she tried to Crucio me, but I hit her hard with a Tenesmus Hex before she could finish the incantation." Kate smiled viciously. "She didn't put up much of a fight after that."

"Remind me never to make you mad," Will said.

"She may not have put up a fight," Mr. Corntassel quipped, "but she did manage to destroy a perfectly good patch of carnivorous chicory."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," Kate blushed. "I honestly thought she'd fall the other way. Still, it serves her right. And I did help her get out before it bit her too badly."

"I commend your restraint," Mr. Corntassel said.

"I guess the commotion brought Mr. Corntassel out the greenhouses. He's the one that took Ann and me to the Infirmary."

As they entered Derwent Hall, Will asked, "What happened to Guinfort?"

"He and Mr. Mallary both collapsed in front of the library," Mr. Malleus said. "A first-year saw them curse each other simultaneously and ran to find help. They're both in the Infirmary under Nurse Choake's care. And Nurses Payne and Cotton have both been called in to assist."

"Nurse Payne took care of my hand," Kate said. "She wanted me to stay, but I had to know what had happened to you! I ran back to the carriage house just as you and the others were coming out."

Mr. Malleus ushered Kate and Will into a consultation room off the main Infirmary wing. He and Ms. Goates followed them in.

Principal Towne was already seated at a conference table that was just long enough to accommodate the six of them—for Mr. Corntassel came in as soon as he left Kenny in the care of the Healers. Mr. Corntassel slid Tony's note in front of him. The Principal gasped audibly. Then all of them listened as Will, Kate, and Ms. Goates recounted their stories once again.

Ms. Goates explained that she was returning from Malkinville when she saw Nurse Choake and Kate transporting Tony's unconscious body into Derwent Hall. She ran to investigate, arriving only a minute after Kate tore out toward the carriage house. Nurse Choake had already managed to revive Tony, but he was clearly in discomfort. He insisted, however, on having parchment and quill to scribble his hasty note. As Secret Keeper, anyone who read it would come under the Fidelius Charm.

Fearing others would be in danger, she went straight to the carriage house, sending an urgent message via Patronus to Mr. Malleus to meet her there.

Kate explained once again about her confrontation with Ann Wulverston. To the shock and horror of the teachers, Will told the story of how he had discovered what the Dread Arcanum was up to back in February, and how they had used the Fidelius Charm to keep him quiet for two and a half months. Finally, Will and Ms. Goates told about what had happened with Archie underneath the carriage house.

"But people run into ghosts in the hallways once or twice every year!" Kate said. "Nobody ever gets sick from it. Just a feeling of cold, and even that only lasts for a second."

"I expect that Argyron Goates was no ordinary ghost," Mr. Malleus said.

"He was a specter," Will said. All eyes turned in his direction.

"Very likely, Mr. Proctor," Mr. Malleus said. "But, how do you—?"

"I did a lot of reading after the Quodpot brawl, when people were getting sick. As soon as I saw Archie, I mean Argyron, I figured that was the answer. He was a specter and he was giving people ghost sickness."

"Wait," Kate said. "What's a specter?"

"A powerful Dark spirit," Mr. Malleus explained. "Unlike most ghosts, which are shadows or echoes of a deceased person's entire personality, a specter is the manifestation only of everything that is foul and evil about that person."

"Prolonged contact with them can drain a person's life force," Mr. Corntassel said. "'Ghost sickness,' it's sometimes called."

"Precisely," Mr. Malleus said.

"So…" Kate began, tentatively, "where is he now?"

"Unless I'm mistaken," Ms. Goates said, "the spell he performed keeps him bound to Rick Lombard's body."

"But Rick is a mouse!" Will said.

"So I hear," Principal Towne said. "When he is captured, we shall have to be very careful when we untransfigure him. We don't want Argyron to escape."

"I'll contact the Interagency Committee for the Management of Noxious and Exotic Spirits presently," Ms. Goates said. "It would be best for them to have agents on hand when and if Mr. Lombard turns up."

"Agreed," Principal Towne said. He pushed himself away from the conference table. "Strigia, if you would come with me, I think Mr. Rainey and Madame Glapion should read that note of yours as soon as possible. Then all the heads of house will be up to speed about everything that has transpired tonight. And I am also calling an emergency faculty meeting for seven-thirty tomorrow morning."

He turned to Will and Kate. "For now, it may be best not to share this note with the student body," he said. Against their protests, he said, "Your schoolmates will be informed soon enough. But it's only fair for the parents of those who will certainly be expelled because of their activities to hear the news first."

"Yes, sir," Will and Kate said as one.

"It's nearly midnight," Mr. Towne said, "and Nurse Choake will have my head if I don't send you two for a complete check-up. She'll undoubtedly want to keep you overnight for observation. In the meantime, the rest of us have work to do."

* * *

><p>Kate, Will, Guinfort spent all of Monday in the Infirmary. Ann, Greg, Kenny, and Tony were kept in the isolation ward and, as each became well enough to move, Magical Law Enforcement officers promptly escorted them from campus.<p>

Later that afternoon, three triumphant elves interrupted a third-year Transfiguration class to present to Ms. Goates a small caged mouse. She dismissed class at once and strode briskly from her classroom. The bewildered Proudfeathers and Quickfangs of course had no clue what that was all about, and when Kate and Will left the Infirmary just in time for supper, they were immediately surrounded by housemates who wondered if they knew why Ms. Goates was so worked up over a single mouse when she always kept at least half a dozen of them in her supply room.

True to his word, Principal Towne posted Tony's note in the Osserly Hall entryway on Wednesday morning. Thereafter, Will and Kate—and finally, Guinfort, whose injuries were more severe and who wasn't released until then—could tell the story of everything that had happened over the past few months, and especially that fateful night when so many kids mysteriously ended up in the Infirmary.

Friday afternoon the visiting Quodpot teams arrived to prepare for the next day's game. The Sasquatch Falls team, in their blue cloaks and matching plaid flannel scarves, looked large and determined. Will suddenly appreciated how well his brother and the other Proudfeathers must have played to have only lost to them by one point!

The team from the Mooseking Institute of Magic arrived an hour or so later. (Will had been so busy fighting Dark wizards and then recovering from the experience that he never heard who had won the Salem–Mooseking game.) They looked just as big as Sasquatch Falls, but somehow more at ease. It was almost as if they weren't overly concerned about the outcome of tomorrow's game. Both teams took lengthy practice sessions at the stadium, and both ate supper in the Dining Hall before turning in early to the Guest House.

The next morning, the fans arrived, and they didn't just come from the two competing schools. Many of the Malkinville townsfolk streamed onto campus, as well as some adult witches and wizards who must have been teachers at the other schools, or parents of some of the players.

The sight of so many visitors on campus was an attraction in itself to the Malkin students, who rarely saw more than a handful of Malkinvillians show up for a Quodpot game. So it was that Will found himself people-watching on the steps of the library. With one eye he went over his Ancient Runes notes. With the other, he watched the many strangers to his school as they wandered around admiring the campus during the hour or so leading up to game time.

"We're going to be late!" someone called.

"The game's not for forty-five minutes."

Will looked up from his book. A couple of girls were walking up the cobblestone path toward the library: a tall girl with long, reddish-brown hair and a shorter black-haired Asian girl.

"But we want to get good seats! If we end up on the bottom row…"

"It'll only take a minute, Kim," the taller girl said. Her dangly earrings looked like miniature fuzzy rabbit's feet. Where had Will seen her before? "I just want to take a look inside. This is supposed to be one of the largest wizarding libraries in the country!"

"It is," Will said. He surprised even himself by speaking up. Both girls turned in his direction. Only then did Will realize he _had_ seen these girls before. It was last Christmas at the Quodpot game in Virginia. These were those two Mooseking girls he was too nervous to talk to!

"We've got a lot of books you can't find anywhere else," he continued. _Even __tone_, _Will. __No __need __to __yell __at __them_. "The Donovan Sparks collection is up on the second floor, and some early documents from colonial times. There's a lot of stuff on Native American magic, too."

"Donovan Sparks from the _Standard__ Book __of __Spells_?"

Will had forgotten how pretty the taller girl was. His heart began to beat a little faster.

"He taught here for ages. When he retired, he donated all his old notebooks and stuff." Will stood up. He put on his most nonchalant expression and extended his hand. He tried to remember to smile—not some stupid looking grin, but an earnest, friendly, normal-looking smile.

"I'm Will."

"Andi." She shook his hand. "And this is my friend, Kim. Kim, I've _got_ to see that Donovan Sparks collection!"

Kim frowned.

"Just go on and save me a seat, okay? I'll be there by tip-off. Promise!"

"Whatever you say, _Andromeda_!" Kim rolled her eyes and followed the rest of the crowd toward the Quodpot stadium.

"Now, you said that was on the second floor?"

"Let me show you." Will opened the door for Andi to walk through.

"Thanks," Andi smiled. "I guess you guys learn a lot about Folk Charms here."

"A fair bit," Will said. "How about y'all?"

Andi giggled. Will looked at her in confusion. "I'm sorry for laughing, Will, but that accent of yours is _so__ cute_!"

"Funny," Will grinned, "I was thinking the same thing about yours."

* * *

><p>As soon as the game was over (Mooseking beat Sasquatch Falls ten to seven) B.A.T.S. preparation shifted into overdrive. The first exams began promptly the following Monday morning. Despite everyone's complaining, most students seemed to get through them well enough.<p>

On Wednesday of the second week of B.A.T.S., everyone gathered on the front lawn at four o'clock for a special assembly. Guinfort sidled up next to Will as the two of them made their way down the cobblestone path.

"Proctor," he whispered. He gestured for Will to join him on the steps of Derwent Hall.

"Yeah?"

"Look," Guinfort's eye darted left and right. When he was sure no one was listening, he said, "You were right. Lombard _did_ have something on me. That's why I couldn't say much about him. After all you had to go through…I just thought you ought to know."

Will was utterly confused.

"The fact is, I've been doing some extra work myself. Stuff they don't teach you in class."

"Guinfort, I—"

"I nearly got it figured out. Only, after everything that's happened. I think I'm going to hold off for a while."

"What are you talking about?"

"Animagus," he said. Will gasped. "I've been studying to become an Animagus."

"Splud!"

"I probably still will, some day. But I've decided I'm gonna do it right. Fill out the paperwork and everything. You might have noticed, I'm not the easiest guy to get to know. I like my privacy. I can do without the headaches of a secret that big hanging over my head."

"Guinfort, you didn't have to tell—"

"I figured if anybody had a right to know, it's you."

"Thanks, Guinfort," Will said. "I can't think of any reason I should tell anybody else. Can you?"

Guinfort offered a subtle smile. "You're all right, Proctor. Let's find a seat."

Will slid by a couple of younger Proudfeathers to the seat his brother had been saving for him, while Guinfort found a place on the back row.

All the teachers wore their dress robes. Even Mr. Slackbrow had taken the time to wash his hair and put on something Will imagined was his best suit—a pea-green robe over dark pants, powder-blue shirt, and a loud orange and green necktie.

It was the second of May: Battle of Hogwarts Day. The students and teachers sat in folding chairs in front of a raised podium where Principal Towne, Vice Principal Goates, and the four heads of house whispered to each other and checked their watches. In the front row, Mrs. Cresswell, dressed all in black, gave the podium her full attention. Two young, handsome men in their late twenties sat on either side of her.

Promptly at four o'clock, Principal Towne approached the lectern and addressed the crowd.

"Students, faculty and staff, alumni and friends of Malkin Academy: We gather here today because fourteen years ago, a group of ordinary students—witches and wizards much like yourselves—became heroes. You know their names. You've read their stories. I don't need to belabor the details. Confronted with a clear and obvious threat, they decided that they would not sit idly by and watch Darkness win. That day, students, alumni, and teachers all quietly agreed that, if their school were going to die, they would die first.

"Battle of Hogwarts Day is still a new holiday, and many are not entirely sure how to celebrate it. I know that in Britain, where the depredations of the Dark wizard known as Lord Voldemort left deeper and far more lasting scars than anywhere else, this is a day of great solemnity. For many here in the States, it is little more than an excuse to eat fish and chips and shoot fireworks all night.

"As I speak with my colleagues from other American wizarding schools, however, my sense is that Battle of Hogwarts Day will always be more than that for us. Fourteen years ago, people rallied to save a school—not merely the bricks and the books but the very idea of a school where young witches and wizards could grow into capable leaders of exemplary character. On the second of May, 1998, the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry once again justified its reputation for excellence by the heroism of its students, alumni, and faculty. Today, we salute their many, many acts of personal bravery.

"A Muggle philosopher once said, 'Courage is not the absence of fear, but the judgment that something else is more important than fear.' I trust that Malkin Academy for the Magical Arts commands that sort of affection and loyalty for all of you—as it most surely does for me. In recent weeks I have learned of at least three students who were willing to risk, to sacrifice, for the sake of their school and their schoolmates. I believe it is only fitting to recognize them today.

"Kate Burroughs, Kevin Guinfort, and Will Proctor: Will you please join me on the podium?"

Kate and Will glanced across the aisle at each other in shock. Tom gave Will a huge smile, patted him on the back, and practically shoved him out of his seat. Guinfort met Will and Kate at the podium, his arms behind his back and his head down.

Ms. Goates rose to hand Principal Towne three large framed certificates.

"By unanimous vote of the faculty of the Malkin Academy for the Magical Arts, Miss Kathleen Malinda Burroughs, Mr. Kevin Marion Guinfort, and Mr. William Cadmus Proctor are hereby awarded the Principal's Citation for Outstanding Service to the School." Everyone erupted in applause. Will patted Guinfort on the back and smiled.

Principal Towne continued. "And now, Mr. Malleus has a further presentation." He bowed out of the way and let the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher take the lectern. He held a small box in his well-muscled hand.

"As Regional Secretary of the American Anti-Dark Arts League, it is my honor to announce that Will Proctor is hereby inducted as an honorary member of the American Anti-Dark Arts League and awarded the League's Distinguished Service Medal." Mr. Malleus opened the box to reveal a gold medallion hanging from a chain. He slipped the award around Will's neck.

Will looked thoroughly Confusticated, but the audience jumped to their feet. Tom stood up on his chair and clapped like crazy. Phinehas grinned from ear to ear. Kate jumped up and down, laughing and slapping Will on the back. For a second, Guinfort actually smiled.

The last days of B.A.T.S.—and the last weeks of the term—flew by faster than Will would have imagined possible. At the Farewell Banquet on the eighteenth of May, Proudfeather came out at the top of the house standings thanks to Ms. Goates revoking Will's hundred-point penalty for refusing to answer her questions after the stolen-wands incident. After the banquet, the triumphant Proudfeathers carried the immense Malkin Cup, its golden figure now transformed into the shape of a soaring eagle, back to their dormitory.

With classes finally over, the common room was full of students enjoying their last night on campus before going home for the summer. Liza Dunwoody was playing requests on the upright piano near the bookcase. A clutch of third-years had staked out a card table in a far corner where they drank Fizzbangs and snacked on cauldron cakes.

"I don't care what anyone says," Phinehas grinned. "Next year, with Tom as team captain, we're going to be Un. Stoppable." Everyone agreed.

"Anybody got any big plans for the summer?" Rodney asked.

"Just hanging out with my cousins," Kate said, "now that Merlina and I are back on speaking terms."

"We're going to visit my grandma in Florida next month," Felicia said. "There's a Muggle amusement park there I've been wanting to see since I was little."

"How about you, Will? Any plans for the summer?" Kate asked.

Will shrugged. "I figured I'd read up on Trans-species Transfiguration for next year. It's supposed to be really hard." Everyone moaned. Rodney threw his empty cauldron cake wrapper at Will, who turned an impressive shade of pink.

"I guess some things never change," Phinehas said.

"No," Will said, "I don't suppose they do."

"_Much_," Kate winked.


End file.
